


For the Unknown

by fairynaughts



Category: Banana Fish
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fix-it fic, Healing, M/M, Mention of Canon Violence, Mention of canon sexual abuse, Mostly Fluff, Post-Canon, mention of canon abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-06-20 00:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairynaughts/pseuds/fairynaughts
Summary: If Sing was going to run an errand, he was going to do it right.Starts at the end of Volume 19 (anime-friendly/potential nods toward anime original moments).





	1. Clear and Unwearied

Sing was half a breath away from a good crouch and sulk before the idea of Eiji waiting there for them all alone got into his lungs.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” It was all wheeze, but Sing rounded back, every step on the sidewalk a step on Ash’s smug asshole face. _If I don’t go back, I’ll never forgive myself._ Never mind that _Eiji_ never forgiving _himself_ would be the bigger sting; if he was going to run an errand, he might as well run it right.

 

Ash was on a bench reading when Sing approached him, trying to keep the panting to a minimum. Ash’s head didn’t lift as he pored over the letter in front of him. The fact that there wasn’t so much as an eyebrow twitch was what made Sing sigh, all that hard-earned air going out of him.

 

“You son of a bitch.” Anyone could have snuck up on Ash at that point, and he had almost left him there on his own! The sudden jerk and roll away from him was all Sing needed. He smacked the side of Ash’s head as Ash growled in reaction, clutching the letter to his chest as he stood, towering over Sing.

 

“What the hell’s your problem? I thought you had it with me.”

 

“I _did_ have it with you! If you can’t guess why I came back—but holy shit, Ash, he’s not even here, and you were already off somewhere else.” Sing crossed his arms, inching back. He wasn’t going to let some white boy act cooler because he was taller than him, even if the white boy was Ash Lynx. “So?”

 

“So…” Ash hung onto the vowel, pulling out a smaller envelope behind the letter and handing it to Sing. Sing grabbed the edges and flipped it open. A one-way ticket to Japan gleamed on freshly printed paper, and he could almost smell the promise of it in the ink. Sing slapped it closed and looked around before shoving Ash back onto the bench, dangling it above his head.

 

“Mine now!”

 

“Fuck you!” Ash lunged for it as Sing danced back, motioning toward the letter in his other hand.

 

“I’ll give it back if you finish reading that.” _And while I make sure you don’t do anything stupid before it_. He wanted to see Eiji off, but—well, maybe he still had the chance. Ash was a quick enough reader when it seemed to count. Sing whistled as he went to the end of the bench, leaning against it and keeping a sharp eye on the library and everyone coming or going near it. There were a few quiet rustles on Ash’s side before Sing sensed movement again. Ash sighed.

 

“So…” Sing prompted again, glancing over his shoulder. Ash was staring straight ahead and angled far enough away that his expression was almost—almost—like it tended to be.

 

“Give me that damn ticket.”

 

Sing turned, giving an exaggerated bow as he handed it to Ash. “And?”

 

“We’re getting a taxi.”

 

“You got a passport?”

 

“Hurry up.”

 

Ash was level with him when Sing threw an arm out, catching movement near one of the walls of the library. The few people around when Sing first dashed off were nowhere to be seen, and as he waited he could feel Ash sliding back into hard-earned wariness.

 

“Still babysitting, Sing?”

 

Sing hissed a warning to Ash as a figure emerged from the corner and strode toward them. Sing matched the speed, grabbing onto Lao’s arm as soon as he was in reach.

 

“Lao! I thought I told you—”

 

Lao’s eyes were bloodshot, but he kept trying to move, body trembling with the effort.

 

“I’m not going to let you fight him, Sing.”

 

_What_? Sing dug his fingers in deeper while his brain caught up, the whirl of insane rich men and explosives dying away to conversations underground and everyone skulking in easy hearing. Sing shook his head, his neck going clammy.

 

“No, Lao. We’re not going to fight. Not anymore.” He inched Lao back, feeling him give. Had Lao slept at all? He supposed he didn’t have to care if he did or not. “We squared up.”

 

“You can’t believe whatever shit he told you—”

 

“No, I mean it!” Sing lowered his voice. People were exiting the library. “It’s over now. I saw proof. Shorter—” _Shit, we’ve got somewhere to be._ “—Shorter was poisoned. Slow and awful. Those assholes were testing it, and—never mind. If you really want to know, I’ll come by. Just once. But I told you, you had nothing to do with this.” Sing glared at Lao, tempted to shake his head off his body. “I’m not going anytime soon. It’s _done._ And so is Ash. Are you going to leave, or what?”

 

Lao struggled. Sing fought back as best he could, digging his heels into the concrete while Lao tried to move past, through, and then away from him. Sing kept his grip, gritting his teeth until Lao went slack. There was no movement from Ash behind them, and Sing risked a tug on Lao’s arm.

 

“Hand it over. Whatever it is.” He looked up into Lao’s face; Lao scowled, darting a last look at Ash before turning his hand palm up and pressing it to Sing’s wrist. Sing felt the handle of a knife and withdrew as he grasped it, sliding it into his jacket pocket.

 

“Ash Lynx is already dead, Lao.” Sing kept his voice quiet, forcing himself to pull his hand away from sagging fabric. “I’m not letting anyone do the same to me. I owe you Shorter, and that’s it. Now you better walk away so we can get out of here, because I’ve got a body to bury, and there’s a deadline.”

 

Lao shook his head, body language crumpling. “Sing—”

 

“ _Now._ ” Every one of his nerves was almost burning him, but Sing remained in place until Lao turned and walked away, half-stumbling with the effort. Sing saw Ash circle and stand at his side out of the corner of his eye, long coat edges flaring with the movement.

 

They both set off at the same pace, and as Ash hailed a cab Sing’s nerves kept burning, his body shivering. He almost stuttered the destination as he went in after Ash, and the mild stink of cigarette butts and leather brought back all the wrong memories. Ash folded the letter and ticket out of view.

 

“Sing…”

 

“Nope,” Sing said, forcing a deep breath. He had worse air than this. “Nope, I’m never forgiving you. Or I’ll maybe forgive you in ten years. You’ve stunted my growth.” His hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and he folded them together in his lap as he tried to lean back. “I can’t believe it.”

 

Ash shifted, facing forward. His voice was even. “Believe what?”

 

_If I hadn’t gone back, what would have really happened?_ He should have been picturing the moment where Lao might have—no, would have—slipped up to Ash like Sing did, but he only saw Eiji in the wheelchair, peering out of a room for someone that didn’t come back. Sing’s teeth chattered before he set his jaw, narrowing his eyes and filing through the rest of what he had to do once this was done. “How many people do you expect me to carry on my back?”

 

There were a few honks as the cab driver cut across a lane, continuing to speed along. Ash didn’t answer.

 

“How long would you have made Eiji carry you if I hadn’t gone back?” Sing crossed his arms and pressed all the way into the back of the seat, the knife settling its weight further into his jacket pocket. He looked out his own window and watched crowds milling by in grays and fall red. “You didn’t even go see him, and now this. Well, I didn’t lie to Lao.” When would his body listen to him and stop acting like it was the first time he saw a fight? “I expect you to go underground somewhere and don’t come back for a long, long time, Ash. Or be like your name. I don’t give a shit. Just—do it where I don’t have to keep making the decisions.”

 

Maybe not so long ago he would have had an ear ripped off, or a better threat than he could think of after the months they had. This time Ash let out a low hum of agreement.

 

“I’ll manage something.”

 

More silence. The cab arrived without fanfare, and they piled out as Sing led the way to the gate, running out the last of the nerves and whatever sick fear built up—for himself, for Eiji, for whoever. Ash was in easy view and range without their boundaries crossing, and as they reached the entrance the usual crowd stood in front, already waving to Eiji without trying to attract extra attention. Sing dashed past, leaning his full weight against the barrier and calling.

 

“Eiji!”

 

Eiji looked around before spotting him. Ash came up on his right, inching out the others as they started to call. Eiji’s face flushed as he sat up in the wheelchair, hands grasping at the arm rests as Ibe pushed down on his shoulders to keep him still. Sing glanced at Ash as he held up the ticket and smiled, guileless. He nodded, and Eiji eased back, almost pink as he waved. Ibe did the same, and as they began to vanish in the boarding line Sing ignored the excited chatter surrounding Ash to root out Max and Jessica.

 

Jessica was easier to spot, and Sing kept his distance until he was sure she and Max were the only ones present. He approached and waved as they took notice, jerking his thumb back toward the gate.

 

“Saw Eiji off. Got a request, if you’re up for it.”

 

Max gave him a once-over before glancing past him. Jessica did the same, lips parting before she snorted.

 

“Always have to make a show of it, huh?”

 

“There almost wasn’t one,” Sing said. “Look, you can ask him for details all you want, but I’m done. Go back to the West Coast and take him with you until he leaves the country. Make him pay, obviously.” Sing made himself stretch, even when his knees threatened to lock and take him down. Max and Jessica exchanged the same adult frowns before they walked past him. Sing sighed, arms dropping back to his sides as that weight kept dragging the side of his jacket down. He would have to ditch the knife or keep it before he made himself visit Lao with the right kind of almost-truths.

 

_Maybe I should leave now._ He was tired—tired enough that he really _was_ sure any growth spurt was gone for good. Sing cast about before turning back, half-expecting an arm around his shoulder and Shorter leaning down to make a comment. He was already carrying him, wasn’t he?

 

 He gave a last scan of the gate and the people nearby and forced himself back to the others, hearing Max snapping out orders to the former remnants of Ash’s gang and Jessica taking charge of Ash himself, herding him without touching him as he kept glancing back toward the now-empty boarding line. Max motioned him over as soon as he spotted him.

 

“Want some dinner? Cat’s treat!”

 

“I suppose I could,” Sing said. Going to bed early might give him dreams his mind refused to acknowledge. And if he didn’t make them get something decent, who would? He thought about Nadia and decided against mentioning their place for now—too soon, and too risky. “Since the cat’s paying.”

 

_I don’t know what you would have done, Shorter. But I think this is okay._

 

After Max and Jessica assured them the inspectors left, they exited the airport and began hailing another taxi, ignoring Ash’s weak protests as Kong and Alex chanted in unison.

 

“Japanese! Japanese!”

 

“What?!” Sing had gotten in as soon as he opened the door and was squashed into the far left as Jessica followed suit, the two of them almost squashed to the window. “I was going to—”

 

“Japanese food for Eiji!” Alex crowed.

 

“You’re the one saying we don’t have good taste,” Kong added. Jessica laughed as Max entered last, closing his eyes and stifling a yawn.

 

“Well, son? What do you feel like for dinner?”

 

Ash was in the middle between Jessica and Max. Sing leaned over to observe, resting his elbow on his thigh to balance. Ash’s expression remained impassive.

 

“Japanese it is,” Ash said. “Just give the guys whatever address you have right now. Kong, Alex--I’ll pay your fare, too.”

 

They cheered as Jessica gave them directions and closed the door, turning her head to repeat the address to the driver. Max didn’t move, and as the rumble of the car kicked in, Ash turned his attention to Sing.

 

“Didn’t peg you for a delivery boy, by the way.”

 

Sing stared before grimacing at him. _What a shit._

 

“Shut up.”

 

Ash laughed, all teenager.

 

-

_“Take me with you. For laughs, for luck, for the unknown. Take me with you.”_

― Peter S. Beagle


	2. Under the Shrunken Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you owe me a new jacket,” Sing added. “With decent pockets.”
> 
> Sing lays down the law once everyone leaves the restaurant. Ash dreams.

There was a lull between dessert and drink refills where Jessica twirled the edge of her napkin, Max rubbed his eyes, and Alex and Kong mumbled to each other. Ash was the only one that seemed apart from the table, and Sing took a breath before breaking the quiet.

 

“Why didn’t you invite Bones along, Ash?”

 

Ash’s eyes focused on Sing in an instant.

 

“I told him to check on a place while you were tracking these two down.” Ash cracked his neck, motioning toward Max and Jessica while Alex and Kong nodded. “Still have to run shifts even when you’re six feet under, you know?”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Sing continued, scanning the tables in front of them. “I’ve got stuff to do now that our last project’s done. Jessica and Max are taking you with them when they go back to L.A.” He could see the waiter coming, and as Ash opened his mouth several bowls of ice cream and mochi were laid out in the middle of the table with spoons. Sing plucked one from the nearest plate and popped it into his mouth. Jessica cleared her throat as Max handed Kong and Alex bowls and dug into his without a word, not looking in Ash’s direction.

 

“Let’s explain everything when we get home, hm? We’re here to celebrate, and you guys were even good enough to eat everything on your plate!”

 

Ash glowered. Sing took another piece as Ash reached for it, and they battled the tension out with pinching fingernails and subtle smacks against each other’s hands while Alex ate his ice cream with small mouthfuls.

 

“Boss,” Alex said. “We’ll be fine. You gave us orders already, so you should go.”

 

Kong let out a long sigh, sucking on his spoon before going for the next bite. “It would be nice to visit Eiji…”

 

“I thought I made it clear I don’t like being told what to do, _Dad,_ ” Ash said, holding down Sing’s thumb and rolling a disputed mochi free. Ash narrowed his eyes as he regarded Max, the dessert caught in a vice grip. Max reached over with a spare spoon and rapped Ash’s knuckles.

 

“Seems to me your good friend here witnessed something very upsetting before you came to the airport, son,” Max said. The tone was tofu-mild, and it was also enough to have the rest of them inch back in their seats, attention on their food. “Listen to your mother and save the discussion for home. And stop playing with that poor thing. You’re getting a mess on your fingers.”

 

Sing polished the last of the mochi off as Jessica took a compact out to fix her hair.

 

“Like hell I’m old enough to have a son that age,” she muttered.

 

Ash, to his credit, said nothing more as Alex and Kong continued to try the remains of the ice cream, comparing flavors and keeping their noses out of the conversation Max and Jessica had about hotels or going back to the borrowed place. Sing wiped his hands and stood.

 

“I’m using the restroom,” he said to Max and Jessica. Max beamed at him.

 

“Go ahead. Such a _nice_ boy,” Max said, smirking at Ash.

 

Sing waved it off and left, heading to the softly lit area where the restrooms were tucked away. It was cleaner than anything they used in recent memory, and he lingered as he washed his hands, glancing at himself in the mirror. Neutral wallpaper and strong light made him shrink in the reflection. The door opened a minute later, and Ash came into view, not looking at him. Sing dried his hands and hung around until Ash finished, taking the opposite sink.

 

“It’s already weird without him, isn’t it?”

 

Ash rolled his sleeves up and soaped his hands to his elbows before washing off.

 

“A lot of shit’s been weird, Sing.”

 

_Can’t say anything to that._ There was a memory stirring inside of Sing the longer he kept still, and he shook his head to himself. _Not yet._ He couldn’t let himself linger on Shorter yet. “I’m going to tell them everything as soon as we get back. They deserve it. Maybe you should consider doing the same when you see him again.” Sing left and returned to his seat, aware of how _calm_ things were—not quiet, or slow, but families around them not hiding guns or anything but how bad they were at handling chopsticks and different flavors. Jessica was laughing at something Alex said as Sing sat back down, catching the last of it.

 

“So then we’re all scared, see, but Eiji goes _right up to him_ and smacks his head to wake him up—and nothing!”

 

Kong made affirmative noises. “Wish he had been around for all the wake-up calls before, because it would have saved us a lot of pain.”

 

Sing grinned; Ash came into view as Max made a point of shushing them. The waiter arrived to clear the plates and leave the bill while Ash stood there, crossing his arms as Jessica smothered another giggle behind her napkin.

 

“What?” Ash said, and Sing sighed, full and feeling as if he might still grow taller, after all.

 

“Nothing much.” He would have to write Eiji a thank-you note for softening up Ash’s head.

 

Ash paid the bill, looking more like the rumpled father figure than Max did, and the good mood lasted until they were back at the address Jessica gave them earlier. All of them went two-by-two, quieting as they headed for the townhouse and watched the streets. Sing locked the door himself before the group resumed a routine, Ash heading to the phone. Jessica regarded the living room and pursed her lips.

 

“Maybe a hotel would be a bad idea since this is still covered for the month…”

 

Kong and Alex checked the windows as Sing gave the lock and chain another tug before stepping away, getting a feel for the layout. He drew the curtains and shades of each window he encountered before returning to the living room, noting a set of stairs. Alex gave him a small salute.

 

“I’ll go up.”

 

“Thanks,” Sing said. He sat on the nearest couch as Ash hung up the phone and took an armchair, legs stretching out as far as they could go. Max plucked a pillow mint from a small candy jar.

 

“Was that about the apartment?”

 

Ash nodded. “It’s clear. Bones is waiting if we need the extra space.” Alex came back down the stairs two at a time, and Sing resisted the urge to say anything about show-offs and long legs.

 

“Apartment?”

 

“You’ll see.” Ash threaded his hands and placed them behind his head, leaning into the back of the chair. “You still renting the one next door, Max?”

 

“Yeah, same deal as here. Got the month left. Not the cheapest rate for a lease, but…” Max stuck the wrapper back in the jar as Jessica crossed her arms.

 

“Pig. Throw it out.”

 

“Now, now, dearest…” Max held his hands up before sitting on the couch across from Sing’s mini-kingdom, Jessica taking the edge furthest from him with a huff. Kong and Alex inched to Sing’s couch and glanced at him; he nodded, and they sat on each side. Sing looked up at the ceiling, letting the blankness seep into his bones. Just the facts. If Ash wasn’t going to make a fuss, he didn’t have to, either.

 

“Eiji gave me a letter for Ash.” He had left the jacket in the furthest alley dumpster he could find before they went to dinner, but the weight still seemed to sit on his thigh. “I handed it off, but I almost left when someone was too stubborn to say good-bye.”

 

“Boss,” Kong said, the word low.

 

“Let Sing finish.”

 

Sing absently tugged at his cord, making sure it was coiled and hidden in the usual spot. “I went back and we were going to grab a taxi when—” _Come on_. How would he handle the next few days if he couldn’t get through this? “—when Lao tried ambushing Ash. It would have gone badly if no one else was there. Really badly.” Sing jiggled his foot. “I have to get back to Chinatown and give him whatever’s near the truth, but even after all the shit we did, Ash is still a liability. You guys take him with you until he gets to Japan. I’ll smooth things over here. Alex can handle what’s left of downtown and we’ll clean up Chinatown. Cain and Black Sabbath’s good with us now, which clears the rest of the immediate territory.”

 

Max rubbed his chin. Jessica looked at Ash, crossing her arms as he continued to lounge in silence.

 

“And you owe me a new jacket,” Sing added. “With decent pockets.”

 

“You’re saying ‘until’ like it’s a done deal,” Max said. His words were slow. “Until he gets to Japan. If Jessica doesn’t mind, we’ll bring you over—Michael would like to see you again—but we would need to get a ticket on top of all the other paperwork.”

 

Sing kept jiggling his foot as everyone else watched Ash. Ash could have been stone if it hadn’t been for the way he spoke next. It was low and secret. “I have a ticket. In the letter.”

 

Alex huffed. “ _Boss._ ”

 

“If everyone’s so desperate to stick their nose in my private affairs, I’ll go!”  Ash jabbed a finger toward Sing, leaning forward. “Buy as many fucking jackets as you want, if you’re going to be that way.”

 

Sing bared his teeth to stifle a smile. Kong and Alex were too edgy beside him, and he wasn’t going to make it worse. Jessica slapped a hand on the armrest of the sofa, and it was hard enough to have Max twitch.

 

“Ash Lynx,” she said. The tone made everyone go silent. “If you’re going with us, you better watch your mouth.” She lunged off the sofa and grabbed the empty wrapper from the candy jar, heading to the kitchen as she shouted over her shoulder. “And have better manners than _this_!”

 

The swinging door shuddered as she went through it. Max shrugged. “Then it’s settled. I’ll call Shunichi in a couple of days and see if he can get the contacts for some friends to help out with the immediate stuff.” He nodded at Sing. “We’ll handle him. Just make sure Chinatown doesn’t handle us on the other coast, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Sing said. He could already imagine the expression on a certain someone’s face if he brought it up too soon. _Another thing to worry about, but what else is new?_ “You think this place is safe for the night?”

 

“Unless you guys are up for more rides and getting settled in again.”

 

“Here is fine.” Ash stretched and stood. “Kong, Alex—check the layout one more time and see where everyone should bunk.”

 

Max sputtered. “It’s a three-bedroom townhouse! There’s room!”

 

“A banker’s son? Share a room? You must be joking.” Ash smiled. Sing looked between the two of them before forcing himself up and heading after Alex. If Ash was going to be like that, he was going to have his own damn pick of what was left.

 

-

Kong took first shift after the roulette of clean-up and night showers for anyone who wanted them. Jessica drummed up extra pajamas from Max’s clothes and handed them out in pieces. Sing took boxers and a T-shirt and fled for the furthest bathroom. The memory from earlier was coming back, and this time he wouldn’t be able to stop it when it did.

 

The adults were in their room, door closed, when he was ready. Ash’s door was open with the mellow light of a bedside lamp to make it seem welcoming. Sing rapped on the doorframe anyway. It was impossible for Ash to miss movement when his bedroom was in the middle of the upstairs floor, but it kept the illusion of a normal night going.

 

“Come in, Sing.”

 

Ash closed a desk drawer as Sing entered. His face was soft, and that was all it took for Sing to know what was inside. It left his throat sharp and aching, and before he knew it the thing he meant to say was gone under another force.

 

“You remember what I said earlier? About carrying people?”

 

It was still hard to surprise Ash, but Sing knew he had when there was a slight brightness to his eyes. Maybe they widened. It was gone in a second.

 

“I _was_ an errand boy, a couple years back.” Sing went to the bed and sat on the edge. “It was all Shorter would let me do then. Quick on my feet and easy to miss, and I gave him endless shit for it. I wanted to help out more than that. But he wouldn’t give. And I think he got sick of it, because one day when I went to eat and was waiting on lunch he told me he knew a way to make me taller.”

 

Ash turned the desk chair to face the bed and sat, hands in lap.

 

“So I bite, like a moron, and ask what it was, and before I knew it—” He could see the way the place was lit at lunch. It was bright and clean, and the tables almost glimmered even though it was cheap, worn-down plastic. “—Shorter scoops me up and starts giving me a piggyback ride right there in front of everyone left. I howl for Nadia…”

 

_“Cousin Nadia! Help me! Damn it, Shorter!” Sing kept missing as he tried to smack Shorter’s head. Shorter shook with laughter even as he bounced Sing and moved his head every time Sing’s luck was almost better than physical force. Nadia came in from the kitchen, hand to her mouth as her eyes crinkled. “Don’t just stand there!”_

“And she can’t keep a straight face.” Sing glanced toward the closed window and the flower yellow curtains shielding the room. “Lao always went there for lunch, too… you know, to let Shorter know how the day was going, and so he came in about the same time. I thought he would yell at Shorter and back me up, but he took one look and lost it. Laughed so hard he cried.” His throat was squeezing the rest of his body into a shiver. Sing closed his eyes, forcing a breath out of it. “Shorter paid for lunch the whole week after, but he said it was worth it.”

 

A clock on the wall near the desk filled the hush. Sing shifted, rubbing at his eyes before opening them again. He looked at Ash and saw his gaze back on the desk drawer.

 

“Eiji took it really hard, you know? Blamed himself for Shorter, like he came up with the idea himself. But you get it. That’s how Shorter was. And you let him be that to the last second, so… if you want to make it up to him, you should carry him to Japan. And be with Eiji. I’ll take the rest of the load here.” Every part of his face was burning, but his voice was steady, and it was all that mattered. “That way it could almost be worth it.”

 

Alex’s door opened and closed, and by the time it opened and closed again Ash was on the bed next to Sing, and they sat next to each other, not touching, not looking at each other or anything but whatever Sing imagined in the blurry shapes of the room.

 

It felt like hours later when Ash spoke.

 

“I want to write a letter to Nadia before we head to L.A. Would you be able to get it to her if I did?”

 

The sound was almost distorted in Sing’s ears, but he nodded along, trying not to blink as his eyes went raw.

 

“Thanks. I mean it.”

 

“Sure.” Sing stood, stumbling as his feet fumbled the edge of the comforter. He caught himself and turned, one more wisp uncurling beneath the strength of Shorter’s remnants. “I don’t know if he’ll say this himself, but Eiji—before you showed up again, Yau-si grabbed him. And you know what? He broke himself out using the asshole as a hostage. I saw it.”

 

Ash stared, the hand wiping at his eye dropping to his side. Sing continued, almost to himself.

 

“I didn’t know Eiji well then, so I followed, and of course he let Yau-si go, but…” He could see them standing face-to-face in the dark, half-blended in with the shadows beyond the street light. “Yau-si told Eiji that he should kill him while there was a chance. Or else he would keep coming. After him, and after you.” Sing almost wanted to go to the desk, to at least touch the drawer, but he stuck his hands in the folds of the borrowed shirt. Ash scowled. “I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Either of them. But I get it now. If he gets around to it, he can tell you again, but—” What? There was nothing to add on. Sing shrugged.

 

“But just in case,” Ash said. “Got it. Go get some sleep, Sing.” It was business-like, even with puffy eyes and a curled lip. Sing nodded and headed to the door, peeking back.

 

“Night, Ash.” _I doubt it’ll be a good one. Shouldn’t waste my breath trying to change that._ He waved before leaving and heading downstairs to the miniscule guest room, hiding his face from Kong until he could bury it in a much-needed pillow.

-

Ash forced himself to breathe before he got up and closed the door, locking it as softly as a normal house allowed. It was almost nothing—a button and a click—but it would do. He adjusted the curtains and made sure there would be no light before heading back to the bathroom near the bed. It was the reason he chose the room, because he didn’t know how the floor would creak if he got up in the middle of the night to use the one in the hall.

 

_I’ll give it to Newsweek. A three-bedroom with bathrooms to match? No wonder Jessica and Max didn’t want to leave._ It was harmless, and more harmless thoughts bubbled over the real ones as he washed his face and hands again. Off went the bathroom light, and then he was back in the room, looking at the full-sized bed in the middle of it.

 

During a worse day than the usual bad ones, Blanca sat him down in the garden and told him stories of people he knew. The only one that hadn’t been matter-of-fact was about a man who went mercenary.

 

_“I hesitate to tell you this,” Blanca said. “But a person who can’t risk losing focus needs sleep. Any kind of sleep.”_

_The sun was warm even through the shade of the tree Blanca seemed to like best. Ash sat on the biggest root and looked out at the blooming flowers, making sure human shapes weren’t disturbing the line of plants._

_“A man I knew left Russia before he could be called upon again, but he found a way to send me letters every so often. There was a mission of his where he ended up taking in a Japanese boy. He kept the details sparse, but the one thing he mentioned was how the boy refused to sleep anywhere but underneath a bed. I expect he was more than a foundling.” Blanca turned to face Ash and smiled. “If you must follow his example, you must. Do your best not to make it a habit.”_

_“What happened to the man?” Ash asked._

_“I’m not sure,” Blanca said. “But the last letter was fairly recent, and it seems the boy is well. My comrade complained that he was forced to make sure every bed they had could fit a person underneath it. Not so good for the paranoia of a soldier, hm?”_

Ash kneeled at the edge of the bed and lifted up the skirt. It was empty underneath, and more than large enough for someone to lie down. He crawled onto the bed and grabbed a pillow and the spare blanket on top of the comforter before turning off the lamp in the room.

 

The darkness was instant. He clutched the pillow and the blanket to his chest as his breathing filled the room. It was always like this, he reminded himself. It took a minute for people’s eyes to adjust, and then it was fine again. But maybe that wasn’t the problem. It was his own breathing—no one else to echo back. Ash shook his head and kneeled again, shoving the pillow and blanket under the bed as soon as he could make out the shadows. He inched in afterward, taking it in little steps. First, making sure the pillow was flat, and then managing to lie on it, and then untwisting the blanket. He stared up at the covered mattress when it was all done, the gray shadow almost a roof of its own. The skirt settled into a set place, and when Ash turned his head he could see it warding off any view but a soft version of whatever came through the eyelets of the fabric.

 

_I wonder if I’ll hit my head if I have a nightmare._ The thought was so Eiji he smiled, and then stopped smiling again. He clutched the blanket close to his chest and shut his eyes. The only thing he hadn’t bothered moving was his gun—it was still in the drawer of the nightstand. It was practice, he told himself. _If I’m leaving the country, I have to practice being without it._ Sing fiddling with his garrote when he spoke was the reminder he needed.

 

_“Lao tried ambushing Ash.”_

Sing knocked him out of the world in the letter faster than he could have guessed; if he ran off a few minutes later without thinking of anything else, what would have been left? Ash dug his fingers into the blanket and deepened his breathing like Blanca told him to, years ago. Threats that didn’t happen were threats that wasted time and energy.

 

_“How long would you have made Eiji carry you if I hadn’t gone back?”_ Sing was almost next to the bed, feet visible even behind his eyelids. Wasn’t it bad enough, he could have added, that Eiji and him were already hauling Shorter around?

 

_Shorter… I’m sorry. I almost fucked it up all over again._

There wasn’t a point where Ash knew for sure he was falling asleep until he was already in his dream. He could feel claws catching at his heavy head and whispers behind him as he curled up, small and alone in the dark. They were going to get him, and there was nothing to do anymore. He tried to bury his face in his knees, but the heaviness was blocking him, somehow. His feet were touching solid misshapen spheres. They were white in the dark, and the only thing that he knew he couldn’t do was go toward them. If he did, they would turn and chatter at him, worse than the whispers.

 

“Ash!”

 

Ash twitched.

 

“Ash!” This time it was drawn out to a yodel. Ash lifted his head, and when he did he heard the whispers fading to the sound of a couple of crickets. The chatter became kids laughing in the distance. His world was narrowed to a set of large triangles, and as he inched forward the bushes in front of him rustled and parted.

 

Eiji poked his head into the bush, feathers jutting out of ruffled hair. His face was lit up by a flashlight sticking out of a bulging cloth sack, and Ash could only stare as glitter paint on his face made it gleam bronze and the gleam of crystal specks of dirt on a sunny day.

 

“Ho, ho!” Eiji said. “Ash, why here? You’re alone!” Eiji disappeared only to wedge himself half through the bush, hands outstretched.

 

“I… I wanna scare Griff.” His hands were in Eiji’s without conscious thought, and as Eiji pulled him through and up to his feet Ash swayed, the pumpkin wobbling with him.

 

Eiji shook his head, laughing. “Griff went for candy! He told me, go find Ash and get three extra pieces.” Eiji pulled away and twirled, cardboard wings flapping. “See! I am owl! Ho, ho! I found you because I see in the dark!”

 

Ash pouted, drawing his own bag of candy out where he hid. “It’s _hoo, hoo_! You’re hooting if you’re an owl!”

 

“Yes, I ho ho! That is the Japanese way!” Eiji picked up his bag and took Ash’s right hand before looking around. He pointed. “Look, it’s us! In the car.”

 

Ash followed the line of sight—for a second he saw that large, ghostly pumpkin, and then he saw Eiji’s wings and costume widened until it looked like an owl on the ground, guarding over the dark. Eiji jumped, dragging him along in an awkward hop, and the owl flew away, the pumpkin vanishing with it.

 

“Wow,” Ash whispered.

 

“Let’s go.” Eiji tugged again. “Maybe we scare Griff in house? I asked my mama to stay over.”

 

They began to walk, and as they did Ash looked back at the reflection in the car, something nagging at him. He saw himself as he was in the bathroom mirror before he went to sleep, and Eiji was there in the stance he used to vault the wall that very first time, the reflection merging them until their handhold looked like wings, stretched and ready to soar.

 

“Okay,” he said, and as they toddled off Ash heard a much smaller version of him teaching Eiji how to hoot, the giggles echoing down the street.

 

The gray of the mattress came into view, and the edges of Ash’s nose and eyes were still burning from earlier. He drew up and bundled the blanket into a loose ball before holding it close. The smell of clean cotton eased past irritated skin, and he kept breathing it until the dream faded back into a safer part of his mind.

 

“Eiji,” he murmured. “I’ll be there soon.”

 

The words drifted up and back down to him, and in the closeness of the space Ash’s eyes went heavy, mind slipping down that old neighborhood and into a sleepover that included Shorter somehow there and flinging Sing onto the bed, all of them bouncing until their heads almost hit the ceiling.

 

_Carry me, Shorter! Carry me!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eiji's costume was a dead heat between a frog or an owl based on cultural lucky animals and his own motifs. The owl edged out because of the latter, but please imagine him as the smallest green frog possible if you need a smile.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	3. Like a Falling Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing gets his jacket. Ash goes back to California.

Ash endured. It was his best trait, and sometimes it felt like his only trait.

 

Then he bumped his head against the bed as he woke up, and the difference between that and what he was used to left him lying there, becoming aware of his Eiji-less surroundings as the sun started to streak through the bed skirt.

 

 _Come on,_ he told himself, even as his arms and hands refused to move. _Get up already._ His mind was still swarming with incoherent dreams. By the time he made himself inch out from underneath the bed his eyes were heavy again, and a shower with fresh clothes and brushed teeth did nothing to help. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his cheeks for a last measure, and it was enough to get him as far as unlocking the door and leaving the room.

 

He went down the stairs as he counted footsteps and voices alike, but his mind wouldn’t clear. Kong and Alex looked up from their cereal as soon as he entered the kitchen.

 

“Boss!”

 

“We thought you would keep sleeping,” Alex said. “Sing isn’t up yet.”

 

“Max went out to get groceries,” Kong added. “You want some cereal?”

 

Ash saw an almost empty bowl of fruit and grabbed an apple. “I’ll eat more later. I have something to do in my room. Tell them I might be sleeping if they ask.” He grabbed a plate and dug for a cutting board and a knife before slicing the apple up and dropping the pieces onto the plate.

 

“Sure, boss,” Kong said. “Do you want me to update Bones?”

 

“Yeah. Head to the apartment and let him know things will be slower today before you come back. Keep an eye out and get me the usual papers if Max doesn’t come back with them.” He popped a slice into his mouth as he poured a glass of juice, gathering the dishes and heading back out and up. His feet dragged against his will.

 

The desk was filled with everything wandering journalists needed, and he made himself down half the glass and eat slices until his mouth burned acidic. He opened the main drawer and dragged out fresh paper and a spare pen, taking care not to disturb the letter next to them.

 

 _Nadia,_ and he paused, lifting the pen away from the paper. His hand stayed steady when the rest of him refused to, a sunny room and utter privacy be damned. After a minute he kept going, Sing’s comments from yesterday changing to a almost calming force.

 

_There isn’t anything I can write to make this something bearable. If I hadn’t already promised, I wouldn’t say a thing about it. I want you to be as happy as you can be after everything that happened._

_Shorter was helping me when we were captured. They threatened everyone we knew, and I told him it would be better to go along with it. Not that they really kept their promise, you know? In the end they tried to hurt us—tried to hurt Shorter, and Eiji—and it would have been long and slow. Shorter asked me to stop it. Before they made him do the same kind of thing. He was also poisoned, although we didn’t know it at first._

Ash rubbed his eyes, digging the end of the pen into his forehead before exhaling. He stuck a slice into his mouth to worry at it, teeth clutching at apple flesh. He saw Eiji backed into a corner in what little surface remained on the desk.

 

_So I killed him._

_I know that if someone else were writing to tell you this they would say I had no choice, or that the people hurting us made me, but all I can tell you is that I didn’t want him to suffer, and I… tried to have Shorter stay the way he was to the end._

_You said I was like a brother to you, too, and that you had faith in me, so I won’t try to tell you how to feel, or say that you shouldn’t forgive me. I’m glad you thought of me that way. I wish I could have brought Shorter back home to you instead of making you settle for this. He’s safe now. He made sure we were taken care of until we were out of danger._

_I won’t be in the city for much longer, but if you want me to write, I promise to write. To stay in contact. Whatever you want and need, okay? Whenever you want and need it._

_Maybe one day I could tell you more about that time, but a lot of it is…_

“Fuck,” Ash whispered, the last of the slice worn down to mush. He swallowed and pushed himself out of the chair, pacing the length of the room before going to wash his hands and face again. His nose was twice as heavy as it usually seemed to be, and he kept himself from looking at the mirror. _Almost there, Ash._ He went back and sat down, curling his toes into the carpet.

 

_A lot of it is handled or over now, and I’m not sure it would help anyone if they did know more. You’re free to pester the person that delivers this, but I think even he would say the same._

_He’s a pretty good kid, and I know he’ll keep an eye on you while I’m away._

_Congratulations on your engagement. Remember, anything you need and want. I won't say to be happy if it isn't possible right now, no matter what I want._

 

_But I hope you will be._

_-Ash_

He stood as soon as he signed his name, folding the letter into threes and slipping it into an envelope before crossing the short distance and crawling onto the bed.

 

-

_Where am I?_

Ash raised his head from an unfamiliar comforter, groping for his gun and then the nightstand as he rolled over. Yellow curtains and a desk covered in paper and breakfast dishes made him curl and sit up in a fluid motion, putting his right hand to his head. He felt patterns etched into his skin.

 

“No point in waiting it out.” He stretched, shoulders refusing to relax. Ash slid off the bed and grabbed the envelope as he exited the room, heading down. The sound of the TV mixed with the smell of eggs and toast. Ash took a small hop off the stairs to step back as Max came from the living room, yawning.

 

“Oh, you’re awake again,” Max said. “Didn’t move much either, huh?” He grinned, motioning toward the marks on Ash’s cheek.

 

“I’m a growing boy, unlike you,” Ash said. He glanced toward the direction of the TV broadcast. “Anything?”

 

“About what you would expect. Tragedy at a site already set back by accidents while comments go unanswered… we’re in the clear for now.” Max moved into the kitchen as Ash followed, the rest sitting around the table. Sing was placing utensils as he raised an eyebrow at Ash.

 

“Now I know you’re in retirement.”

 

Ash put the letter on an uncluttered counter nearest the door. “You’re beautiful when you wake up too, I’m sure.” He saw a stack of papers and sat down next to them, flipping through the major headlines and checking the financial section. “Morning, Jessica.”

 

“Good morning, Ash,” Jessica said. “How much breakfast do you want?”

 

“Toast is fine.” Ash found himself almost listening for one more presence in the house and scowled, lifting the paper to hide from view. “Thanks.”

 

Max drifted in and out a few more times before Jessica set out the dishes and everyone settled in, Alex and Kong picking at the remnants from the paper as Ash set it aside. He waited until he buttered a slice and bit in before speaking.

 

“Sing, could you deliver the letter today?”

 

Sing nodded, downing scrambled eggs and sipping at his orange juice. “And then…”

 

Ash stretched his legs out underneath the table. “I’ll give you the money before you head out. Just don’t get anything cheap, after all those complaints.”

 

“Boss,” Alex said. Ash glanced at him as Kong began to fold the paper over, scanning comics. “If you want us to head back, we can pack anything you might need.”

 

“Good plan,” Max said. “I can go with you since I have to clear out the rest of my apartment.” He ticked off his fingers as he continued, quick and easy. “We’ll also need to buy a few books for the flight since there’s more variety out of the airport, and then make sure we can get tickets together, and I do want to say good-bye to Nadia and Charlie if I can manage it…”

 

“You expect me to stay here?” Ash said.

 

Sing rolled his eyes as Max gave him a once-over. Kong and Alex shrugged.

 

“Do you really want to be in the city any longer than you have to?”

 

They could have said anything at that point, and it would have been less shocking. Ash stared at all of them, toast clutched in one hand and half-raised to his mouth. Sing propped an elbow up and leaned his cheek against his hand, watching him.

 

_Do I?_

Kong went back to his comics, smiling.

 

“It’s okay, boss. We know.”

 

Jessica sat down with a fresh cup of coffee, holding a hand out.

 

“Finish your toast, Ash. And hand me the _Times,_ will you?”

 

The broadcast in the other room shifted to a daytime talk show, and as they ate, Ash checked the clock hanging on the wall. It was eleven-thirty, and for once, there was nowhere to be.

 

Ash gave the paper to Jessica and went back to his toast.

 

-

 

It was fast, and it wasn’t fast. Sing took the letter and came back one last time once Kong and Alex rounded him up alongside spare clothes from the apartment and Bones, and Sing showed off two new jackets—one made of black leather, and another like the one he dumped.

 

“Those pockets are big enough to fit you inside,” Ash said, but when Sing handed him a small note with a _take care_ written on it the last of the bite went out of him. Max sauntered off with book requests and Jessica spent her time on the phone, changing flight plans and reserving a three-seat-row. Ash, she declared, would be in the middle, and she would be by the window. Max tended to get up and down during the longer flights. Ash knew he was being hemmed in for other reasons and decided to keep it to himself.

 

There was a computer in Max and Jessica’s room—Ash worked on it, checking on the Christopher alias and debating the usage. But who else besides Blanca and Max would be alive to know it? He added a few details before his mind wandered. Every time he checked a clock time seemed to slow further. He ended up back in ‘his’ room and re-read the two word note alongside the letter, breath shallowing every time he did.

 

There wasn’t enough to do and too much, and in the end, he was packing a new suitcase alongside Bones as Bones chattered, hands folding the clothes to a sharp edge. Max ran in and out with a cry to Jessica about a misplaced tie or set of notes, and then left the house again.

 

None of them ate a full lunch, and by the time dinner was an option they went out again, Jessica picking the place and Ash’s wallet. Ash let her in a daze, and Kong, Bones, and Alex kept her busy with questions and commentary. Max was on his right side.

 

“You know,” Max said, between ravioli, “you can always write everyone through Nadia. I’ll put my name on it. And it’ll be fine.” Max hummed a far-too-familiar refrain. “Funny to say that now, huh?”

 

“It doesn’t change that it’s right.” Ash nibbled at his lasagna, the order coming after Jessica insisted he was closer to skin and bones than anything else. “But I’ll take you up on the offer, old man.”

 

“Good.” Max sipped from his wine and gave Ash a smile that might have been better suited to Michael. “We’ll be in California before you know it, and then… well, I’ll see what I can do.” He looked out toward the table as Jessica laughed. “You can take all the time you need. Oh, but read those books. Those came out of _my_ pocket, you know.”

 

-

 

 _Take my time?_ Somehow there was nothing but time, and when Ash was alone for too long he could feel the hints of some blackness eating away at him. It was the worst at night, and for the next three days he continued sleeping under the bed, half-dreaming and half-awake. It wasn’t until they were heading to the airport after a set of final orders that Ash felt reality seeping back where it should have been all along. Alex, Kong, and Bones traveled with them. Sing was waiting when they arrived.

 

“A snack for the future tourist,” Sing said, handing Ash a fortune cookie. “Couldn’t manage to get anything more authentic to smuggle.” He smiled. “Compliments of the chef.”

 

Ash pocketed it and nodded. “You guys really don’t mind getting the letters?”

 

Sing snorted. “Are you joking? Being the source of sole communication for the dead? I can start spreading rumors that I talk to ghosts and people would piss themselves even more than they already do.”

 

Bones snickered; Ash turned, giving him a sharp look before he decided to mention anything about Halloween celebrations. Kong whistled innocently as Alex came up near them.

 

“The last of their stuff is checked. Take care, boss.” Alex smiled, holding a hand out. Ash hesitated as he shook it, lingering before making himself step back. “We’ll keep giving Cain your regards.”

 

“Good.” Ash parted his lips before shaking his head and sighing. “Help in Chinatown if you need to, all right?”

 

“Like hell,” Sing said. “Tell Eiji to visit soon. We don’t want to see your sorry ass before he does.” He was wearing the leather jacket, and as Jessica and Max came back to say their goodbyes, Sing slid a pair of sunglasses out and on his forehead. “Remember what I said.”

 

Ash smirked, pulling the handle of his carry-on up and giving Sing a casual salute.

 

“Sure. Maybe you’ll grow into that look by the time I come back.” He waved at the others before Max led them to the gate, the business class boarding line forming. The inside pocket of Ash’s jacket rustled as the edges of Eiji’s letter brushed against his shirt. When they reached the flight attendant and handed her their tickets she smiled, surveying the trio. Her next words were aimed at Jessica.

 

“My, what an attractive family! Is this your little brother?”

 

Jessica smiled back as Ash forced himself to keep a straight face.

 

“Yes, he is. We’re heading back home.”

 

“Oh, how lovely,” the flight attendant said. “I hope you had a safe trip here.”

 

Jessica gave a loud laugh as they walked by.

 

Max kept quiet, shaking his head to himself while the three of them nodded to the rest of the attendants greeting the passengers before they found their seats. Ash eased himself into the middle before turning to Max, looking up at him with the expression of a fawn.

 

 “Would you hand me a book, big bro?”

 

“Shut up,” Max said in a mumble, digging into his backpack and slapping the thickest of the books into Ash’s hand. Ash settled in, smiling even when his palms felt clammy. The only time he looked up was as they took off, glancing past Jessica’s bent head to watch the landscape fade into a growing sky.

 

-

 

Ash was almost done with the book when they landed and disembarked. As they exited the airport his gaze went back to the sky overhead, obscured through a haze of smog.

 

“I’ll get a rental,” Max said. He began walking as Ash adjusted the book in his grip. Jessica hummed, looking over at him and smiling.

 

“So, you’ll be a California boy for a little while. Why don’t we get burgers on the way home? Michael will like it once we pick him up.”

 

Ash faced her. “Burgers?”

 

“Yep! We’ll get some In-N-Out. My treat.” Jessica checked her watch. “I know it must not seem nice from all the smog, but hopefully the new check law they passed will be worth the hassle.”

 

“At least you can almost see the sky.” Ash turned over the rest in his mind. “Am I supposed to know what In-N-Out is?”

 

Max came back, swinging the keys around his fingers. Jessica gave a satisfied sigh.

 

“You know… it’s nice to hear you sound like a normal kid.” She made a beckoning motion at Max. “We’re getting Ash and Michael In-N-Out.”

 

“Great idea! It’ll be a drive anyway. I’ll go ahead and take the wheel for now. Ash, you sit in the back. It’ll be easier to finish the book.”

 

Ash raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t we close to Hollywood?”

 

Jessica and Max exchanged amused looks before she turned to him.

 

“You’ll understand soon enough,” she said.

 

-

 

It was a good hour before they acquired Michael and burgers both, and by the time they reached the house Ash was finished with the book, his meal, and the traffic. They gathered the wrapper and soda remnants before heading inside and taking trips to gather the luggage. Michael lurked at their heels, asking questions and giving Ash a brief hug around his waist when Ash was on his last round of helping.

 

“Welcome back, Uncle Ash,” Michael whispered, and then he scurried inside as Ash remained in place, pressing a hand to a coat he resisted pulling off as soon as the sunny weather soaked through the heavy fabric. He went to the swing and sat down in it, hands wrapping around the rope handles.

 

A few people walked by with dogs in tow, not looking twice. _Why should they?_ It was a nice house, with a nice yard, and an actual picket fence. And the last time he was here… Ash inched himself back using his legs, at the first arc of an actual swing and unmoving. The sound of heels digging into grass sounded behind him.

 

“Ash?”

 

Jessica came into view, hair pulled into a ponytail. Ash lifted his legs, swinging and then stopping himself. His shoes dug deep into the ground.

 

“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t look straight at her. “This thing could come down any time, huh?”

 

“The branches hold worse than you.” She moved to stand in front of him, keeping a safe distance away. Ash could hear Michael and Max from a distance. _A backyard. Of course._ Jessica crouched, looking up at him.

 

“I know we can’t be Eiji,” she murmured, “and I know—” she stopped before shaking her head, expression hardening. “I know we might not be able to understand. But I hope we can make you feel safe until you go again.”

 

“I think I do,” he said. “Maybe that’s why it’s so overwhelming.”

 

They said nothing more, and although Jessica stood up, she didn’t leave the yard. By the time she came back with a pile of mail Ash was off the swing and drifting after her, the wood and rope creaking behind them.

 

-

 

Ash kept himself busy by watching Michael before and after school in the weekdays that followed; during the nights Jessica sat up with him while Max tucked Michael in, and even though she would keep working or read magazines as he watched TV and checked the papers, he was certain she was observing. On Saturday evening Jessica and Max went grocery shopping and took Michael and Ash with them. Michael sat in the cart while Ash leaned on the handle.

 

“You’re pretty big to be sitting in there, you know,” Ash said. He was getting dark circles under his eyes, but it didn’t stop people from looking at him in the usual way. Jessica and Max kept him in elbow’s reach. 

 

“You have to take the free ride as long as it lasts, Uncle Ash.” Michael rearranged the current batch of items in the cart. “You’re going to see Eiji?”

 

“Now why isn’t he Uncle Eiji?”

 

Michael considered this while Jessica put Cheez-its in the cart. “I don’t know.”

 

“Well, that’s okay. Yeah, I’m going to see him.” Had Griffin talked with him like this? Ash looked at Michael and smiled. “I’ll write you letters and send you whatever I can. Packages so big you can’t lift them.”

 

“If they’re going to be so big that I can’t lift them, why am I getting too big to be in the cart?” Michael crossed his arms, looking proud.

 

“They’re going to be very, _very_ big,” Ash said. He eased off the handle when Max came back to push the cart, walking alongside and feeling his breath catch.

 

 _Oh._ He kept quiet during the check-out and the ride home, and it wasn’t until Michael dragged him to the swing that Ash picked up the conversation again. He held the ropes steady as Michael adjusted.

 

“You know, you’re not the first to think he can’t be Uncle Eiji.”

 

The bubbling memory felt raw under the bright sunshine sprinkling through the tree. Michael glanced up at him.

 

“I’m not?”

 

Ash gave him a small push, backing up as Michael began pumping his legs.

 

“Nope. I had a—” The green vanished under a blaze of phantom reds and actual sunset oranges. Michael’s sneakers came into view seconds later, his scuffed red and white toes kicking furiously. Ash pushed him again. “—a friend a little older than you. His name was Skipper.”

 

“Was he cool?”

 

Michael clung as he went higher, and Ash kept stepping back, the pushes stronger until Michael screeched in joy. “Whoo! Because I bet he was cool! Push me again!”

 

“Wait until you start slowing down!” Ash went to the side, Michael laughing. “Why are you so sure he was cool?”

 

“Because—” Michael was puffing, the rope and wood creaking as he kept the momentum going. “—he was your friend first, Uncle Ash! Look how high I’m going!”

 

Ash sat down on the grass before clapping, making his voice light.

 

“You’re flying!” He waited until Michael began slowing down, trying to note everything in front of him. Two-story house with a gentle blue of a paint job and an orange roof, a white picket fence, and a green, green lawn. There was a giant tree with a swing. Michael’s feet barely touched the ground as he grinned at Ash.

 

“So? Was he cool?”

 

“The coolest,” Ash said. “And he has you beat on something.”

 

Michael pouted. “Whaaat?”

 

Ash stretched a leg out to touch his toes.

 

“He saw Eiji fly for real.”

 

The front door opened as Max stepped out, whistling toward them.

 

“Ash! Phone call!”

 

Ash stopped, staring at Max before pulling himself up and waving at Michael.

 

“Be right back.” _Who the hell…?_ He stepped inside and scowled at Max. “No one’s supposed to know I’m here.”

 

“Don’t give me that tone, young man. You are working on a visa, after all.” Max led him to the nearest phone off the hook. “Dinner will be in a half-hour. It’s taking longer than Jessica and I thought.”

 

Ash waved him off before picking up the phone. “Fine, fine.” He put his ear to the receiver, modulating his voice. _Visa. Business. Polite._ “This is Christopher. Who may I say is calling?”

 

There was a brief, staticky silence before a muffled laugh came over the phone. An accented voice spoke seconds later.

 

“That’s the nicest you’ve ever sounded, Ash.”

 

Ash’s grip went slack, the phone sliding before he caught it and twined his other hand into the cord, his mouth going dry.

 

“Eiji? _Eiji?_ How—”

 

“It’s lunchtime here,” Eiji said. “Max called Ibe-san and then Ibe-san called me.” Ash could hear the smile in his voice. “Is it a nice surprise?”

 

Ash clutched the phone closer, almost leaning into the wall.

 

“Am I paying for this?”

 

Eiji huffed. “I will hang up now if you do not want to.”

 

“No, don’t hang up.” Ash laughed, the breath slipping out of him. “I just might have to eat soon. It’s night here.”

 

“Better for a cheapskate,” Eiji said, but as he said it his voice softened. “That’s okay. You can call back. Ibe-san can call Max when I am free.”

 

“Why—” _Right._ Ash thought of trying to speak with Eiji’s parents and sister to reach him and shook his head. “—never mind. Man, those old people are really taking advantage of me.”

 

“Poor Ash.”

 

This time Eiji laughed with him, and as he did Ash’s body felt light enough to fly.

 

“Yeah. Poor me.” He paused, thinking of Skipper again. He could see him rolling his eyes, voice assuring and sarcastic all at once.

 

“ _Please, Ash. It’ll be fine.”_

“Thanks for calling, Eiji.”

 

Ash could almost feel Eiji smiling at him over the distance.

 

“You’re welcome, Ash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not long enough--next time, Gadget! 
> 
> I also tried not to underestimate L.A. traffic in the 1980s. People from the area know what I mean. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Forever Following

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash carries out several plans.

The wall became Ash’s temporary hideaway the longer the conversation went on. He leaned his back against it and kept shifting his balance from foot to foot, bouncing lightly and then settling for resting his left one on the molding.

 

“Was everything okay when you got home?”

 

“Yes. No. My mother scolded Ibe-san.” Eiji gave a whistle of a sigh. “My sister said I must have looked famous with how they helped me from the airport.”

 

Ash heard the door open and close. Michael found him a minute later, staring at the phone and then mouthing ‘ _who is it_?’ as slowly as possible.

 

“It’s Eiji,” Ash said. He addressed the phone again, ignoring Michael’s attempts to hop over and tug on his arm. “Michael came inside. We were playing.”

 

“Hi, Michael!”

 

Michael hooked a hand onto Ash’s waist and went up on his tip-toes before shouting. “Hi, Eiji!”

 

“ _Michael!_ Leave Ash alone and come help with dinner!” Jessica’s voice rang through the entire floor as Michael ducked away, sticking his tongue out at Ash before running off to the kitchen.

 

“I didn’t think you would go with them,” Eiji said, the words slower than before. Ash tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“I didn’t think I would, either.” He could hear Bon Jovi thrumming through the wall while the distinct air that came with boiling water filled part of the hallway. _No. I won’t tell him like this._ He could picture Eiji’s expression crumpling at the hint that he might have put Ash in danger, even on accident. Sing’s assessment still stung days after he made it. “But I’ll tell you more once I get there.”

 

“Really?” Eiji brightened at once, and this time Ash’s lips cracked from a too-wide smile. He hissed and covered his mouth. “Ash? What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s so dry here,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I think my lips are bleeding.”

 

“Don’t pick at them. You will need lip balm.”

 

“I’m not going to pick at them!”

 

“I’ve seen you pick at your nails,” Eiji said. “You cannot leave well enough alone to heal.”

 

Ash huffed, wetting his lips. “Says the _master_ nitpicker.”

 

“And what does that mean?” Eiji’s words sounded off, and a minute later Ash straightened, looking ahead.

 

“Are you _laughing_ at me?”

 

“How can I be laughing if I do not know what you mean by nitpicking?” Now there was a definite snicker, and Ash dug his foot into the wooden floor, sneaker squeaking.

 

“It means you look for so many problems that you could see fleas on someone else!”

 

“Oh.” Eiji went quiet enough that Ash almost relaxed again. “Then I am your nitpicker after all.” He burst out laughing as Ash paced, wishing he could smack the phone cord against Eiji’s arms.

 

“See if I wheel you around any time soon once I get there, old man! I’ll leave you to do tai chi with the other grandpas in the park after all!”

 

Whatever Eiji might have said melted into a full fit of giggles. Ash fumed before biting his lip, his shoulders trembling. A second later the sound broke free and he let out an echoing peal, bent over and clutching his stomach with his free hand the longer they egged each other on over the speaker. Ash wiped his eyes when Eiji let out a shaky sigh, a rattle carrying through the phone.

 

“My stomach hurts,” Eiji said. Each word was breathless.

 

“Mine too. Be careful with your wound,” Ash said.

 

“I will.”

 

Ash hesitated before rolling his eyes, his body warm and tingling. “And I’ll make sure to use lip balm.”

 

“Good.” Eiji let out a hum of approval that pooled in Ash’s chest. He went back to playing with the cord, glancing around for the nearest clock.

 

“Eiji… I don’t actually care if it costs a lot. It’s—not the same.”

 

“You’ll be here soon,” Eiji said.  Ash whispered the words to himself before shaking his head.

 

“I will. Listen, I’m going to go eat, okay? I’ll get Max to call again soon.”

 

“Okay, Ash. Good night.”

 

“See you.” Ash lingered before forcing himself to put the phone back in the cradle, slipping his fingers free from the cord. He hugged one arm and took a deep breath before exhaling and heading to the kitchen, the radio on full blast as Michael danced along in a corner. Max took one look at Ash before his expression went smug.

 

“Someone looks happy.”

 

Ash flipped him off and went to set the table. The room had been fully remodeled and painted a soft cream since they last came, and it kept Ash from trying to find old details or hints in places that didn’t exist anymore. He glanced at Jessica as Max went back to stirring sauce, and she was checking a timer, drumming her fingers against the counter. Her distant expression was one he was used to seeing on his own face.

 

He looked back at the plates, making the settings just so.

 

-

 

“I was thinking,” Ash said, after they finished the last of the spaghetti and meatballs, “that we could forget the visa for now. I can head to Japan as soon as my passport comes.”

 

Max gnawed at a toothpick, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You would have to buy a return ticket before you went.”

 

“I’ll come back here, if you’ll let me.” Ash rested his hands on the table. Jessica watched both of them before nodding.

 

“You’re more than welcome to, as long as you keep working on it. You shouldn’t put it off for too long.”

 

Ash’s tone was firmer than he thought it would be. “I won’t.”

 

Jessica smiled before getting up and going to her purse. She came back and held out an unopened tube of lip balm.

 

“Looks like the weather’s getting to you.”

 

Ash pocketed it as Max sighed, kicking himself away from the table.

 

“Well, bring the ticket when we go to the office. Maybe we can get it expedited without too much trouble as long as your old man looks offended enough.”

 

“That won’t be hard,” Ash said, and fled to the dish washer before he could see the look on Max’s face. He was half-way through loading when Max spoke, pitching his voice as high as possible.

 

“Are you _laughing_ at me?”

 

Ash placed the plate in the rack before turning, filled with a serene rage. He regarded Max and smiled.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Jessica continued to gather the dirty dishes, barely glancing at Max as he turned toward her.

 

“Honey?”

 

“Not now, dearest. I have to get Michael in the bath and see whether the life insurance would be better to have instead of you.” She put the dishes in the sink, shooting him a flirtatious wink over her shoulder.

 

Max fled the room, a barely coherent sentence about managing bath duties taking his place. Ash went back to rinsing and loading, his cheeks flushed.

 

“Don’t worry,” Jessica said. “We didn’t hear _why_ Eiji was laughing at you.”

 

_Kill me._

 

-

Michael was allowed a movie portion every night before he went to bed, and Ash ended up being his main pillow during the screening.

 

It was another thing he couldn’t be sure whether he remembered, forgot, or never had—the feeling of Griffin holding him in his lap as he nodded off, the TV running in the background.

 

Max was already slouched in a reclining chair as Jessica sat on the couch with them, for all intents and purposes watching _Mary Poppins_ as if she hadn’t seen it before. They were on the next hour after Michael successfully pleaded a case for extra weekend time the night before, and at first Ash was able to sit through it without anything beyond casual interest.

 

Michael’s head lolled against his shoulder by the time the children in the film were listening to a lullaby, the screen cutting from a snow globe to a grand cathedral and a small figure surrounded by birds. Ash rocked Michael in time to the music, and the longer it went on the more New York came back to him, and then Cape Cod. The crooning became the sound of waves and wild grass, and the steps of the building were the public library stairs nestled between the lions.

 

His vision blurred as the birds soared. When the song ended he couldn’t see at all, and somehow it reminded him more of being dragged out in public, unable to move, instead of the quiet he shared with Sing in that rented house.

 

“Ash?”

 

Jessica’s whisper made him stir; he was leaning back against the couch, holding Michael close. He shifted, letting go and holding Michael out to her as he turned away, trying to bring back anything else—the radio, Max being an asshole, Eiji teasing him—the sound of Eiji’s voice—but there was only the lullaby and the fluttered scattering of an old lady’s pigeons pressed into his eyes.

 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I better go to bed.” He left for the guest room, still half-blinded by his own eyesight. It was too risky to try and crawl under the bed. He ended up sitting down and curling in on himself, his back pressed against a too-soft comforter. Ash buried his face in his knees and the well-worn fabric of borrowed pajama pants as his body shook, a new wave of grief hitting him and dragging him into its undertow.

 

_You’re eighteen. You’re **eighteen.** What are you even crying for right now?_

But it didn’t stop.

 

-

 

“Mommy!”

 

Ash jerked awake at once, shifting into a crouch. He strained and heard wailing, another loud _Mommy_ coming from upstairs.

 

_Michael._ He pushed himself up and to the door, opening it and dashing upstairs as the sound of footsteps and rattling knobs filled the second floor. Michael was tugging at the door to Max and Jessica’s room when she rushed out, catching him as the force knocked him off-balance. Ash scanned the narrow hall and saw nothing out of place. Michael sobbed, clutching to Jessica as Max followed her out.

 

“Mommy, they came back! They came back!”

 

“Darling, it’s all right,” Jessica said, pressing him close. “No one came back. See? Uncle Ash is right there.”

 

Michael turned his head, his face already red and snotty. Ash stared, the numbness from earlier sinking in again. “I saw them! They came back!” He tried to wedge himself further in her hold as Max shushed him, wrapping his arms around both of them.

 

“It’s okay now, Michael. It was a nightmare. See, it’s just the four of us… why don’t you sit with Daddy for a while? I’ll read you a book and Mommy will get you milk.”

 

Michael tried to answer and coughed, small hands digging into Jessica’s nightgown for a minute longer before he threw himself at Max. Jessica kissed the top of Michael’s head and stood, looking at Ash and beckoning with her index finger. He followed, mute.

 

Jessica turned the lights on in the kitchen before grabbing a small pot with a practiced air, the coffee machine her next stop. She flicked it on and went to the fridge to add milk before placing the pot on the stove. She tended to the coffee mix and filters as Ash sat down at the table.

 

“I’ve been looking for trauma therapists,” she said, not facing Ash. “Ones that could treat me and Michael at the same time. There aren’t quite as many for families as there are for individuals, but I was given a few referrals.”

 

Ash clasped his hands in his lap, staring down at the clean tablecloth.

 

“Ash…” he heard her turn, bare feet smacking against the tile. “You don’t have to go to Japan right away, you know. Max and I—if the referrals work out, we could have you added on.” She sat across from him, the edges of her hair swaying just above the top of the table and his field of vision. “You wouldn’t have to work all of those fuckers out on your own. We could pay Eiji back. He would understand.”

 

_He already understands._ The coffee maker began to rumble as the pot bubbled. Jessica got up again and turned the stove off, shuffling back and forth with wearied practice. She left the kitchen with the glass of warm milk and returned a couple of minutes later. Ash shifted, meeting her gaze.

 

“Could we go in the living room?” he asked. She nodded. He eased himself out of the chair and kept a small distance between them when they went, Jessica slowing to turn on the furthest lamp from the window. They ended up on the couch again, facing each other with a cushion of space between them. Ash now felt the grime on his cheeks.

 

“Does Michael have nightmares a lot?”

 

Jessica leaned against the back, propping an arm on it and staring into space. The blinds facing the street were covered by rosy curtains, and they made everything a little warmer. “It depends. It hasn’t impacted his schoolwork yet… but I don’t want it to get to that point.” She shifted, drawing her legs up underneath her before glaring at him. “You’re not going to blame yourself, are you?”

 

Ash rubbed his arm, but didn’t lower his gaze.

 

“Those— _monsters—_ ” Jessica curled her hands into fists before taking a long breath, shaking her hair out and then allowing herself to go limp. “No one in their right mind blames a child trying to save himself from being dragged to hell, Ash. Who else would it have been if it hadn’t been Michael seeing that? If I hadn’t endured it?” She picked at the threads of the couch. “I know what the legal system thinks about your status—or would. But you’re not old enough to drink, or rent a car. You’re a capable person, Ash Lynx. Now you can be even more. Or less.”

 

Max’s heavy footfalls rang above them, the back-and-forth pace routine even in their silence. Ash swallowed and felt his lips threatening to crack again. He forgot to put anything on to let them heal.

 

“I… I can’t do that right now, Jessica. The therapy, I mean.” _Even more._ Those birds from the movie were perched in his brain again. They came, and they went, and they willingly flew to the old lady that fed them. He squared his shoulders, and this time his body responded like it usually did. _Or less._ “Maybe we can work something out when I come back in three months. But I think going to Japan is what I have to do. Everything else—I need to think about it.”

 

Jessica considered him before the coffee maker twinkled its alarm. She turned her head in the noise’s direction before facing him again.

 

“Are you all right with hand-holding?”

 

Ash shifted, holding his hand out. Jessica grasped it and squeezed, hefting him up and back to the kitchen. She clutched with enough might to make his fingers go comfortably numb, and didn’t let go until she had to pour the coffee. When she did, she handed him a mug in return, her smile small but understanding.

 

“It’s okay now, Ash. Would you like some milk and sugar?”

 

Ash cupped his hands around the mug, letting his palms absorb the heat.

 

“Yes, please.” The movie came back to him again while she brought the containers to the table. His mental calendar began to stir. “Jessica?”

 

“Hm?”

 

He went to the table, watching her water down the coffee without complaint. “How much longer before you and Max go back to work?”

 

Jessica paused, sleepily blinking at him. “Why do you ask?”

 

Ash brought the mug to his lips and let the first wave of sugar and heat hit him before answering.

 

“I have an idea. A surprise for Michael, if it’s all right. I’ll pay.” It was getting easier to say the words, but this time Jessica didn’t smile, or ask, or do anything but make a gesture for him to hold on before she left the room. Ash kept at the coffee while he waited, the burble of appliances mingling with the clock. He looked up at it and sighed when he saw it was 3:00 a.m. in the morning. _So much for a good night._

 

He was half-way through the cup when he heard movement in the living room. Jessica called his name a minute later. Ash pushed himself up, his right hand giving a spasm as he did. _Shit._ Everything was wearing down and there wasn’t a chance in hell he could sleep any time soon. He took the mug with his other hand and left the kitchen. Jessica was sitting in the chair closest to the telephone. Ash took the edge of the couch and leaned over on the arm, putting his cup on the same table. He managed to land it on the coaster.

 

“I talked to Max. We’ll have time. Just tell us if you need help planning.”

 

“Thanks…” he glanced around the living room before looking back at her, tilting his head in question. “Couldn’t make it the last few steps?”

 

Jessica pursed her lips.

 

“Don’t stop being cute now. I’ll have you know—”

 

The phone rang. Ash clutched at the arm as Jessica picked up the phone with the ease and benevolence of an empress bestowing a favor.

 

“—that I asked Max for Shunichi’s number.”

 

Ash slid away from the couch and took the phone as Jessica got up, motioning him toward the armchair. He inched into the seat just as the person on the other end spoke.

 

“Jessica?”

 

“It’s me,” Ash said. Eiji’s voice seemed closer in the late hour, and it left him shivering; he watched Jessica exit the room before he remembered his coffee. He grabbed the mug and downed another sugar rush. “Sorry… is this too soon?”

 

“Of course not.” Eiji’s tone shifted from exasperated to quiet on the third word, and when he spoke again Ash abandoned his mug on the table and curled up in the armchair. “Ash, what’s wrong? It’s late there.”

 

_I don’t know. I don’t know._ Ash cradled the phone. “I didn’t know they would call you… Michael had a nightmare and woke everyone up. He thought something was happening again.” He almost caught himself smiling. “You’re making that face, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes.” The defensiveness he expected wasn’t there. “Is Michael okay now?”

 

“I think so. I… well, I might try and do something while they still have time off. While I’m here, and Jessica was talking about finding someone to help treat them—”

 

“Ash,” Eiji said. “Are you okay now?”

 

Ash sank as far down into the armchair as he could. It was too soft. Eiji’s voice, the fabric—everything. He closed his eyes.

 

“It’s all the traveling. It’s messing with me.”

 

“That is not what I asked.” Eiji sighed before continuing. “I told you, didn’t I? Forever.” His voice was altering into steadiness, and Ash found himself hooked on every word. “If you are not okay now, Ash, you will be. I am here with you. Do you have my letter?”

 

“Yeah,” Ash said. “In the guest room.”

 

“That’s okay. It is close. Until you come here, I am there. I am the letter. All right? I know it is smaller than I am, but maybe that will help.”

 

Ash relaxed. He let his feet dangle off the edge of the armchair as he made a hum of acknowledgment.

 

“Eiji, I’m leaving as soon as I get my passport. Jessica and Max said I could come back here in three months.”

 

“Really? Then Ibe-san and I will get you when you arrive.” Eiji tried to laugh the sincerity away, but the softness didn’t vanish. “It will be nice.”

 

“Yeah.” Ash opened his eyes again. “You can show me everything.”

 

“Yes, everything.” A comfortable lull settled between them, and Ash caught the sound of a bird singing outside the house. “You should go to sleep, Ash.”

 

“There’s no way. I had a ton of coffee and sugar.”

 

“Then you should still rest,” Eiji said. “You are not happy in the morning. You will be worse.”

 

Ash made a face at the phone.

 

“I know _you_ have made a face.”

 

“Okay, okay. I’ll try to rest.” Ash felt each muscle protest as he uncurled, his hand spasming again. He stood and inched the phone along with him.

 

“And remember, I am the letter.”

 

“And to use lip balm,” Ash said. His memory dredged itself from the deeps. “Jessica gave me some earlier. I’ll do it after I brush my teeth again.”

 

“Good!”

 

Ash shifted his weight, rousing the worst of the aches in easy stretches. “I’ll make sure to be the one to call you next time.”

 

He was rewarded with a real laugh. “Okay. Good night, Ash.”

 

“Have a good day, Eiji.” Ash eased the phone back into place and gathered his cup, scanning the room before heading to the lamp and turning it off. The kitchen was a beacon in the sudden dark, and he went and tidied the table before washing out his mug and leaving it in the sink. He got a glass of water for good measure before hitting the switch and heading back to the guest room. The upstairs was quiet.

 

There were moments like this over the last year. Ash would come back to the apartment from a well-lit hallway and find it wrapped in domesticity. Sometimes there would be a cushion lying on the couch, but everything else would be put away, or running for the night, and the dark room door would be closed. The only constant was Eiji waiting for him, and the feeling that the apartment had become a word he put out of his head a long time ago.

 

The guest room was the same way—most of his things were the cause of the disorder in the room, but all else heeded Jessica’s will, and it was one that insisted on comfort. Ash went to the nightstand and pulled the top drawer open, reminding himself to ask her about the electric bill. The lamp had been on for hours now, and a soft radiant heat touched his hands while he drew the letter out of its safe spot. He hesitated before closing the drawer again, not bothering to check on his gun in the one below it.

 

_You’re practicing, remember?_

The gun was going to stay with Max when Ash left, but after the mutual decision they both agreed it would be better to keep it in ‘his’ room for now—the less chance of Michael finding it until it went into a safe, the better. It was hard to remember to leave it alone, but the feel of paper in his hand was a start. He put the glass of water down and went to the bed, leaving the letter on the spare pillow.

 

Then Ash got ready all over again.

 

He followed Michael’s schedule more than Max or Jessica’s, whether he went to bed late or not. Sometimes he would brush his teeth again, and left it at that—this time he did the whole routine as he wandered between the bedroom and the nearby bathroom in the hall. Each time he found himself glancing down the length of the hallway to make sure nothing, and no one, was there at the end of it.

 

_I would almost take a pumpkin._ At least it was a fear that couldn’t shoot.

 

Ash tidied what he could, applied the lip balm he left on the nightstand after walking by it and forgetting twice, and then sat on the bed, pulling the letter toward him and smoothing a bent corner on the second page. It was as pristine as thousands of miles allowed, and he read each word three times over until his eyes grew heavy.

 

_‘You are not alone, Ash.’_ Eiji’s voice filled each dark corner of his brain, texturing it into something kinder. ‘ _I am with you.’_

Ash crawled under the covers, making sure to fold the letter and slip it back on the nightstand before groping and turning off the light.

 

_‘My soul is always with you.’_

Ash drifted to sleep, his mind heading home to the apartment.

 

 

-

 

It was 1:00 p.m., and Ash didn’t want to get out of bed.

 

He compromised and went around the house in pajamas for another hour before cleaning up, confirming everyone’s absence again, and getting to work. By the time Jessica and Max came back with Michael, Ash was cross-legged on the couch and deep in a phone conversation, jotting things down in a notebook at his side. Jessica took one look and ushered Michael away. Max ambled out to the backyard. Michael ran after him a few minutes later with a catching glove on his head and a baseball in his hand.

 

Jessica was back in the kitchen and putting together cold cuts when Ash went to greet her, her head in the fridge as she reviewed the contents.

 

“I assume that was your surprise idea?”

 

“Yep.” He glanced at the sandwich layout and took over. “Give me to the end of the week, and take a three-day weekend.”

 

“Oh? Is it a surprise for us, too?”

 

Ash turned to her, holding a hand out and smiling.

 

“I’ll tell you Wednesday. Mustard, please.”

 

Jessica dug it out of the fridge and regarded him, her hip supporting the open door. She handed him the bottle.

 

“I suppose that’s fair. Max isn’t very good at keeping his mouth shut.”

 

Ash’s smile turned feral.

 

“Don’t I know it? There’s still time to change your mind about another marriage.”

 

“Huh! There are no better devils.” Jessica went back to the fridge. “Let’s have fish and salad for dinner tonight.”

 

Ash finished putting the sandwiches together and stepped back to check his handiwork.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

_It’s nice to mean it._

 

-

 

Ash set an unforgiving pace for himself; if he wasn’t out of the house and handling application materials for his passport, he was with Max, picking clothes to take with him, or watching Jessica do laundry before trying his own loads. He babysat Michael and barely made it from the living room to the guest bedroom when it was time for bed each night.

 

“I’m telling you,” Max said on Tuesday, throwing several deodorants into the cart, “you have to stock up in case they don’t have what you want or need when you go.”

 

“It’ll take up too much room!”

 

“I’m _telling_ you, because you are going to want something from here, whether you think of it right now or not!” Max scoffed and shoved a few more in for good measure. “Although we can send you whatever you need… providing you pay for it.”

 

“You’re a miser,” Ash said. “Taking advantage of my pennies like that.” He put back five and then considered the rest of the shelf.

 

“Huh! You’re an adult now. Can’t guilt me with that face of yours.” Max began pushing the cart to the next aisle. “Besides, you think I would leave you high and dry when Griff isn’t around to nag you? Trust me.”

 

Ash turned, staring at Max’s back before he went out of view. Whatever might have stirred in the last year wasn’t there—not in the same way. Ash clutched at the edge of his shirt and followed, pitching his voice past obvious emotion.

 

“Hey, old man! We need sunscreen.”

 

Max scowled, dropping a can of shaving cream into the cart as Ash came into the aisle.

 

“What for?”

 

Ash shrugged, growing playful.

 

“You’ll find out tomorrow. You can keep a secret this time, can’t you?”

 

It would have stung even two weeks ago; now they exchanged a mutual look of understanding before Max turned back to the row of products, the scowl sliding away to something calmer.

 

“What type of sunscreen?”

 

“I don’t know. What do you usually use out here?”

 

-

 

There was one last thing that had to be done before the weekend came, and Jessica handled it without blinking.

 

They all went swimsuit shopping.

 

It was the riskiest and most awkward part of the whole plan, and Michael didn’t even react when Jessica dragged them all to yet another clothing store, the seasonal line growing larger as June waned into July.

 

“Michael, darling, let’s get you a new swimsuit so we can take Uncle Ash to the beach this weekend.” Jessica ruffled Michael’s hair. “He’s never been to our ocean.”

 

“Okay,” Michael said, long-suffering. “I want a new bucket, too.”

 

“Just a new bucket?”

 

“Well…”

 

Ash surveyed the swimsuits. _When was the last time…?_ A lazy river and Eiji floating on his back came to him seconds later. _Right. That was when._ He half-heartedly flipped through a few before grabbing a black set of trunks. Everything else on his immediate itinerary was handled and expedited, thanks to the ticket.

 

_Does this still count as surviving?_ They checked out and got ice cream on the way back; when Ash looked for the nearest clock, it mocked him: still afternoon. _It feels like it._

He made sure to play with Michael until he was too tired to watch the time passing; Jessica and Max began packing in the distraction. Ash pulled out some of his Japan stock and put it in a borrowed duffel bag before he eased himself under the sheets and fell asleep, one hand touching the letter now permanently tucked underneath a pillow.

 

\--

 

Michael’s head lolled as Max packed him into the car. Ash hopped in after helping Jessica with the bags, peeking over the top of the back seat to make sure Michael didn't look back.

 

“We’ll eat breakfast nearby as soon as we get to the beach,” Max said. Michael made a small grumble and curled up underneath the seat belt. Jessica saluted Ash and went into the front passenger seat. Ash piled in next to Michael, and as soon as the doors were closed, Max took off, the radio at a low volume.

 

Ash exhaled pure relief and folded his hands behind his head. The drive went quickly for what seemed to be a permanent gridlock fixture, and by the time they were slowing down Michael was only just waking himself up, rubbing at his eyes as Ash glanced over.

 

“Good morning again, sleepyhead,” Ash said. He smiled when Michael stuck his tongue out at him.

 

“You’re worse, Uncle Ash. Are we at the beach yet?” Michael turned to look out his window, freezing in mid-shift.

 

“I hear it’s fun like the beach,” Ash said. “It better be, for how much it cost.”

 

“Mommy?” Michael said, almost squeaking. Max pulled into a parking lot as a large sign displayed the words _Disneyland_ _Hotel_ in neat lettering. Jessica peeked over her shoulder, lips twitching as she tried not to smile.

 

“Yes, darling?”

 

“ _Daddy,_ ” Michael said, as the car went quiet. “Did we take a wrong turn…”

 

“Nope,” Max said.

 

“Surprise,” Ash said, stifling a yawn and covering his ears. He managed with seconds to spare; Michael howled, jumping up and down until the seat began to shudder.

 

“ _DISNEYLAND!”_

It took coaxing to get him out of the car, and even then, Michael leaped onto Ash as they exited, almost clinging to his side. “Oh, thank you, thank you, _thank you_ , Uncle Ash!”

“Stop,” Ash said, feeling the tips of his ears go hot. “We’re going to miss breakfast.”

 

Michael did not stop. Max made faces at Ash when there wasn’t staff checking them in or taking their luggage, but Jessica only smiled every time Ash had to lug Michael with him, even once they were in the breakfast area and Goofy was in easy view, mingling with the other parkgoers.

 

“Look, it’s Goofy,” Ash said. “Don’t you want to sit so he can say hi?”

 

“No,” Michael said. He only let go once they were at a table, the seating forcing him away.

 

Ash lasted a minute before shifting Michael’s chair closer to his. Max _hmph’_ d and took a menu.

 

“Please,” Jessica said, taking her own and handing one to Ash and Michael. “Stop acting like a child, Max. You’re not the one who paid, after all.”

 

Ash gave his sweetest smile to Max before the waiter came over. Max eyed him over the top of his menu before letting out a _tsk_ of resignation.

 

“Better eat up,” Max said. “We’re going to be busy.”

 

Ash, for once, took his advice. Platefuls of mostly well-made food passed in front and away from them as he and Michael ate with gusto. Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes vanished, and Ash polished off an omelet with tater tots—the adults blessedly kept any commentary about his choice side to themselves. He settled for orange juice as Michael sipped milk. Jessica kept to a lighter version of Ash’s meal, and Max had the heaviest with coffee to wash it down.

 

“Do you want to go see the room, Michael?” Max said. Michael shook his head, resting his folded hands on the cleared table. Goofy had, indeed, come by, and Michael hugged him with the dignity of a visiting prince. Ash struggled to keep a straight face the entire time, and shook the actor’s hand for playing along. He would have to figure out how to sneak them extra, somehow.

 

“It’s time to go to the park, Daddy,” Michael said.

 

“After we use the restroom and get our things, Michael,” Jessica said, shooting Max an amused look. “Okay?”

 

Ash let Jessica take the lead as they went up to the room. It was a palatial level of suite, and Michael ran through the wide space, gathering the freebies as they got ready.

 

“Don’t run ahead in the park, okay?” Ash said. Michael crouched at the door, waiting.

 

“Okay!”

 

Max scooped Michael up when they left, beginning to whistle. Michael threw his hands in the air as they went through the hallway and down to the lobby.

 

“This is going to be the best day ever!”

 

“Oh, darling,” Jessica said, laughing, “we are going to do _everything._ ”

 

\--

 

Ash expected the kind of vacation that everyone drifting in and out of Cape Cod seemed to have—or, in his quieter moments, the absolute peace that permeated the atmosphere when he went around showing Eiji what little there was to do.

 

What he got was utter escape. Once they were in the park, there was nothing _outside_ —just other families and sometimes strollers to evade, but he and Jessica didn’t watch their backs or leave space in case someone tried to touch them, and every ride was a whole other world. Michael demanded to go on Space Mountain first, and Ash let himself relax into the speed while Max screamed his head off in solidarity with Jessica, the dark and sparkling lights carrying him away.

 

His favorite was Pirates of the Caribbean; Jessica made a face when she heard some of the dialogue, but the water’s smell and the hushed build-up to adventure was everything Ash didn’t know he was missing. Once they were out he took one look at Michael, the semi-short line, and their guardians.

 

“I want to go on it again,” he said.

 

Jessica and Max led them back without a single protest.

 

The whole area sparked something in Ash—the Haunted Mansion and the spinning of the buggies caused Michael to lose against gravity, flopping into Ash’s side and giggling helplessly beside him. Ash watched the ghosts dancing in projected lines, trying to catch as many details as possible.

 

They went and looked around the buildings before peeking into the shops and then heading back to the part that veered near Main Street, enjoying lunch as Mary Poppins and a few other characters interacted with families outside.

 

They also ate, and ate, and ate—cotton candy, and churros, and tropical-tasting soft-serve that went down too easily for how long the wait was, but as they sat in air conditioning and Michael clapped in time with serenading jungle birds, Ash clapped along, accepting all of it. For now, there was no worrying, or any other reality—only someone else’s concoction.

 

“You really like the slower rides,” Max said, after they came off the Jungle Cruise and Ash shaded his eyes to see what was down the street. Jessica reapplied sunscreen onto Michael and herself. “Who’s the old man again?”

 

“We’re all little kids in the park, right?” Ash grinned at him. “Why? Want to go climb a mountain?”

 

Max’s expression went evil.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go climb a mountain.”

 

\--

 

Ash didn’t quite fit in the little bobsled car. The attendant gave him tips, but as the ride started he felt his bones rattling ominously. Max laughed until the sound effects took over, and then they were on a series of hard, curving track and racing past the ugly face of an abominable animatronic. Ash gritted his teeth when his knees smacked against each other, jeans not enough to keep it soft.

 

They were already half-way through the fake mountain when Ash caught a view of the park through one of the open turns. He looked down, breath snatched away from him by another jolt.

 

_You’re on the mountain,_ something in him whispered. _And you’re going back down without even thinking about it now, aren’t you?_

Ash gasped, the last view of the ‘monster’ chasing them down to the end of the ride.

 

_Eiji told you._

 

The attendant helped haul Ash out as Michael tried to smooth his hair down, his shirt windblown into creases.

 

“That was _awesome_ ,” Michael said. “Let’s go on Splash Mountain next!”

 

And so Ash went back up and down a different mountain, clothes wet enough to squish as he walked.

 

They trudged back to the hotel for a change and dinner before another round of rides and a parade, and this time Ash excused himself from another round of little vehicles. Max took his place, taking Michael on a paddle boat through the man-made marina while Ash and Jessica sat under a set of striped beach umbrellas, sipping at water.

 

“You could get Eiji something while we’re here,” Jessica said. She lounged on the longest beach chair they could find, sunglasses perched on top of her head. “Even if it’s just the overpriced photos. He would like them.”

 

Ash stared out, watching the way the sunset caught the water and made everything glow with an inner fire.

 

“That sounds good,” Ash said. “I think I’ll do that.”

 

Jessica let out a groan as she stretched, the plastic of the chair creaking.

 

“You should,” she said, once they were both boneless and fully settled in; Michael and Max’s boat was approaching their corner again. “It’s your trip, too. And I’ll pay for them.”

 

Ash turned his head to face her. She was watching Michael, expression soft.

 

“It won’t even start covering how I feel… but I’m glad you thought of this, Ash. I hope you’re having fun.”

 

“Don’t worry,” he said, surprised by how bright his voice sounded. “I am.”

 

\--

 

There was a seafood place a stone’s throw from their part of the beach, and as a musician performed just outside the restaurant, they had a dinner that could combat the sweets from earlier without weighing them down. It was, Ash was beginning to learn, a fine art, and Jessica seemed to have the best understanding of it. He ordered what she ordered and stole a chicken tender from Michael. Michael stole a piece of fish from Max to make up for it.

 

They rushed from the last few rides to the parade, the cheerful music and electrical lights topped with a fireworks finale. Max carried Michael on his shoulders to see all of it, and Ash saw Michael’s hands straining toward each firework before it faded back into the night sky.

 

Ash didn’t remember the walk back to the hotel room or falling asleep, but before he knew it, Michael was jumping on the free side of his bed.

 

“Get up, Uncle Ash! Get up!”

Ash clawed his way out of bed and into clothes, sunscreen, a baseball cap, and down to breakfast. Michael guided him by the hand, patting it every time they made it past whatever distance Michael considered impressive. It lasted until breakfast. This time Ash had coffee after his orange juice, clearing his mind for the task ahead. Max halted mid-bite, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“It’s time for the spoils of war,” Ash said, and began studying the colorful map from yesterday’s expedition.

 

This time they started with the rides in the furthest places, or the ones they were sure they wanted to go on multiple times—Ash passed on another chance for Splash Mountain to scour the rest of the area in Bear Country and the start of the Haunted Mansion before doubling back to wait for the others.

 

Jessica and Ash spent the time after each ride surveying the photos; in the end, they bought one from Pirates, one from Space Mountain, and wherever else they had a shot at decent quality.

 

They rode the yellow submarines close to the Matterhorn for a break, and as they passed a steady stream of mermaids and a long stretch of sea serpent, Ash stopped looking for the seams that made up the ride. He wanted to buy in—they were underwater, too far to find, and they were at the bottom of a real ocean with Atlantis buried in the sands.

 

When they left the dark ride, Ash studied the pool that the submarines ran through, unable to see anything but what the engineers wanted the crowds to see. Michael was asking about the mermaids and whether they allowed visitors as they all walked away.

 

Ash turned over more possible things for Eiji as they went into the shops on the fringes of every ride they passed, but it wasn’t until they went inside Sleeping Beauty’s castle and viewed the dioramas that a few new pieces of his mind clicked together.

 

_I like this._ Ash _liked_ it—the wildness in the tamer park, and the edges of the fairy tales that didn’t quite fit. Sleeping Beauty surrounded by thorns, the fairies scheming against Maleficent, the idea of mermaids roaming the ruins made by a mankind no one knew—even pirates that went from rascal to real danger.

 

_When was the last time I was able to like something of my free will?_

Max and Jessica didn’t notice, and he preferred it that way. This was something to hold close. Something just for him.

 

They went on more of the fairy tale rides, even though it meant more small boats and cars, and as they wrapped up the day and prepared for one last parade, Michael dragged them into one of the bigger stores. He came out with a gigantic plush of Winnie-the-Pooh.

 

“They all have names here, but if I see someone to match Pooh somewhere else, I’ll get it,” Michael said. “And when I do I’m calling it Skipper.”

 

Ash’s foot caught against the asphalt, his ankle wrenching enough to give him a warning shot of pain. Michael looked up at him.

 

“Shorter too,” Michael added. “They won’t mind, right?”

 

“No,” Ash said, and then kept going, pushing past the tightening of his vocal cords and Max and Jessica’s gazes on them, “no, they wouldn’t mind one bit.”

 

Jessica hovered as Max took up the conversation and admired Pooh; Ash only shook his head, not daring to speak. He made sure to rotate and stretch his foot before catching up, the four of them heading to a reserved dinner in the Blue Bayou. Parts of the Pirates ride stretched out past the building and its seating, and Ash kept his meal light while watching families and friends sailing past them.

 

_It should hurt more._ But even Skipper and Shorter seemed warm and comforting in the atmosphere. Ash almost pictured them coming in late and settling down at the table. _It’s not Chinese, but it’s decent,_ Shorter might have said. And the food _was_ decent, even if it wasn’t anywhere near some of the dishes he had over the years. He could savor it this time around.

 

“It’s weird,” he said, while Michael had a mouthful that slowed his conversation. “I thought it would feel… less real.” He motioned at the false night sky above them.

 

“There’s actual ingenuity for you,” Max said. Jessica was gazing at the cream and lantern-lit building that framed the rest of the area, swaying back and forth in time to the parts of the music audible beneath the chatter.

 

“Yeah,” Ash said.

 

_I thought… I would hate it._ All the calls and planning and queries—it almost felt like he was walking back into the illusion. He looked at the others and smiled.

 

“Let’s have dessert before we go.”

 

_I thought I would, but nothing’s felt so real._

The crème brûlée they all got before leaving helped solidify the fact.

 

\--

 

Ash tried one last time to find something light enough to pack beyond the pictures, but the parade and the last of Michael’s energy came and went before he could think of anything. He fell asleep trying to think of the perfect item, and even checked the store within the confines of the hotel while they checked out and put their luggage in the car.

 

He had his hand on Winnie-the-Pooh during the car ride home when a better idea occurred to him. They unloaded Michael and the bags when they arrived, and Ash rushed to the guest room to write it down before the inevitable crash. He flopped onto the bed with a satisfied grunt, his fingers brushing over the edges of the letter as he rolled onto his side and fell asleep.

 

\--

 

They all dawdled around the house for the next two days, barring Michael, who went to school and came back without much complaint. Ash and Max continued to pack, and unpack, and repack, and by the time his passport arrived in the mail Ash was ready to call the whole thing off and go without any luggage at all.

 

Then he saw the thick bundle on the table and double-checked to make sure everything was ready before dashing upstairs.

 

“Max! What’s Ibe’s number?”

 

Max peered up from several notepads and pictures, giving Ash an owlish look before Ash waved the bundle at him. Max pushed himself out from the desk and slid a narrow drawer at the very top open to pull out an address book. He handed it to Ash before checking his watch.

 

“It’s going to be a while before you can call,” Max said. “Let’s go out.”

 

“Where?” Ash said. “We’ve bought out entire stores.”

 

“Not yet.” Max waggled a finger before shoo-ing him out of the room. “Michael! Get your shoes on—you can do your homework when we get back.”

 

Michael poked his head out from his room before vanishing, the sound of things being thrown around filling the hallway.

 

“You too, bucko,” Max said. Ash gave him a sour glance and scooted himself back downstairs.

 

“Stop calling me nicknames, old man!”

 

“You’ll get as many as I want, as long as you’re under my roof!” Max’s cackle followed him; Ash grumbled to himself as he got his shoes and they left the house. Jessica was surveying the backyard and came into view.

 

“We’re off for a while, honey,” Max said. “Would you mind doing the fact-checking for the notes on the desk?”

 

“Sure,” Jessica said. “But why the sudden trip?”

 

“I got my passport,” Ash said.

 

“And I’m not going to have the house torn up because he won’t stop pacing over it.” Max held an arm out as Michael leapt onto it, dangling him for a minute before putting him back down.

 

“I wouldn’t _pace_.”

 

Jessica saw them off, not bothering to keep a straight face as they did. Ash kept his arms crossed during the short drive.

 

“Books for the flight,” Max said. They parked in front of a bookstore as Michael clapped his hands, kicking his feet against the back of the driver’s seat. Ash had no smart answer, and kept quiet because of it. Max grinned knowingly at him as they got out.

 

The children’s book section was tidy and more than enough to draw Michael away at once; Ash kept an eye on him as Max herded him along.

 

“All right, you’re going to need some doorstoppers. I assume you’re not going to sleep at all.”

 

Ash imagined himself vulnerable in the seat and shook his head. Max glanced at the genre signs.

 

“Want more classics?”

 

“How heavy do you expect my suitcase to be?” Ash said. He scanned the shelves, noticing a small section for science fiction and fantasy. He went to it as Max followed, making a skeptical noise.

 

“You think this’ll keep your attention? I think it’s about twelve hours from here.”

 

“It’s fine.” He pored over what they had as Max went back to check on Michael, and after an initial run of the aisle, Ash settled for reading the backs and the first few pages of the ones that caught his eye, gauging. That part of him from the park was stirring again.

 

He picked two trilogies and a few standalones and singles from other series, unable to decide what counted for classic beyond the basics. _I guess length is the main thing, since it’s for the flight… it’s not like I have a shortage of funds._ He meandered back to the children’s aisle and was almost past the Classics section when he turned, resisting the urge to sigh at himself. _You have,_ he nagged, _more than enough already. Give me a break._

He ended up adding Dumas and _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ before mentally kicking himself out of the section. There was still one more thing to get, if they had it.

 

Michael was flipping through a large illustrated version of _Alice in Wonderland_ when Ash approached; his eyes widened when he looked up, mouth going slack.

 

“Uncle Ash, that’s a _ton_ of books!”

 

“And I’ll probably finish them all before I land,” Ash said. He shuffled them into a careful stack and eased them into the crook of his arm, looking at the selection. Sure enough, there it was. “Could you grab me that one, Michael?” He motioned; Michael followed his gesture, tilting his head even as he picked it up from the shelf.

 

“A _Pooh_ book?”

 

“For Eiji,” Ash said, grinning. Michael flipped it over and looked at Ash, unconvinced. “Why get him it at Disneyland when we can get it at a normal price here?”

 

“Oh!” Michael looked at it with renewed respect. “And you can put the photos in until you get there!”

 

“Good idea!”

 

Max watched them and let out a long sigh when Ash shifted his attention.

 

“What, old man?”

 

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to miss you,” Max said. Ash began the slow walk to the counter as Michael picked up his own choice and went along. Max fell into step beside them.

 

“Yeah,” Ash said. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

 

Max chuckled.

 

\--

 

The phone was ringing; Ash crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again before going into a full slouch in the armchair. Jessica and Max dismissed themselves for a shared bath duty.

 

“ _Moshi moshi?”_

“Ibe-san?” Ash said. “It’s Ash.”

 

“Ash!” Ibe was all genuine joy; Ash slouched more. “Eiji told me about the plan. Do you have your passport now?”

 

“Yeah, and before I call him, I wanted to know what day would work for you… I was thinking of changing the date to this weekend or next week.”

 

It was easy, to Ash’s embarrassment—easy to talk to him after everything that happened, easy to plan it, and easy to listen to recommendations for hotels and picture himself arriving and seeing them waiting for him. By the time they worked out the schedule and Ash got Eiji’s number, he was sitting up again, fingers drumming the arm rest. Ibe hung up first after they said good-bye, his tone understanding. Ash dialed the next number after waiting a few minutes; Ibe offered to call and make sure Eiji would be ready.

 

_It’s no big deal. It’s not._ Hadn’t he taken plenty of trips before this? But as the phone rang again his mouth was dry and he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Eiji answered before the fourth time.

 

“Ash! Ibe-san told me you got everything. I can’t—”  


“—wait to see me?” Ash smiled. “You know, the stupid American’s going to need a tour guide. I hear I pay well.”

 

“I don’t know,” Eiji said. Ash could see a phantom of him belly-down on the couch, raising both eyebrows at Ash. “I am used to a… I cannot think of the saying.”

 

Ash laughed. “I can’t believe you know that.”

 

“Of course I know that!”

 

“Then I’ll make sure to maintain the lifestyle to which the young master is accustomed,” Ash said, unable to resist adding in a goad. “And I’ll make sure everything’s fitted for his height requirements.”

 

“I am going to hang up.”

 

“You won’t be able to hang up on me once I’m there, Eiji.” They were both laughing again, trying to keep it muffled. Ash tried to take a deep breath. “So, would you be willing to hang out in Tokyo for a while?”

 

“Anything for the stupid American,” Eiji said. The easy gentleness went straight down Ash’s spine. He covered the mouth piece and gave himself a few seconds before shifting, modulating his voice to practiced casualness.

 

“I told Ibe-san already, but here’s the schedule, if it works for you…” Ash detailed what they worked out, and Eiji listened without commentary until Ash was done. Ash was about to ask him when Eiji sighed, a rustle sounding through his end of the phone.

 

“Ash, I have been doing nothing but being at home and healing. Of course it will work for me. And we will see each other soon.”

 

Ash wound his fingers through the phone cord, unable to stop smiling.

 

“Yeah. We will.”

 

“And I will teach you Japanese.”

 

“Please do,” Ash said, and they laughed again.

 

“Then recite the letters for me… do you remember?”

 

For the next few minutes Ash repeated back the few words he knew diligently, ignoring each time Eiji gave a muffled giggle over his pronunciation. When they said good-bye, Ash was almost hot with affection, quickly escaping to the guest bathroom to take a shower and avoid seeing Max and Jessica.

 

They didn’t need more ammunition for their teasing.

 

\--

 

It was a truly astounding amount of luggage to Ash’s eyes, but when he checked into the flight the staff didn’t bother looking twice. Max, Jessica, and Michael walked him to his gate, and when they did Ash found himself slowing down, grasping at Michael’s hand and swinging it.

 

“Tell me when you get Shorter and Skipper to keep Pooh company, okay?” Ash said. Michael nodded, eyes already glassy. They reached the area, and Ash re-settled the heavy weight of his backpack before crouching down and scooping Michael into a hug. “I’ll be back in a few months.”

 

“Okay,” Michael said, burrowing his face into Ash’s shoulder. “Tell Eiji hi. And send the big packages.”

 

“I’ll send all of them,” Ash said. He patted Michael’s back before Michael let go and hopped away, hiding behind Jessica. He gave her a hug next, and they kept it loose. She patted his shoulder and smiled.

 

“Don’t forget to keep working at the visa. Oh, and take pictures of any place you take a liking to, because we’ll have to make sure the property’s worth buying.”

 

“I’ll make sure to run it by Ibe,” Ash said.

 

“You _should_ call him Shunichi,” she said, kneeling down to ruffle Michael’s hair.

 

“Nah, he’s fine,” Max said. “For once.”

 

Ash faced Max, the two of them staring each other down. Max slowly held his arms out, and Ash stepped into the embrace, absorbing the bear hug and feeling nothing beyond the warmth.

 

“Let us know when you get there and have a phone handy,” Max said.

 

Ash swallowed and nodded, patting Max on the back before they let go. He waved before turning and boarding, the usual business class line forming all around him. The upgrade had been the last thing he made sure to do after completing his hotel reservations, and the extra space around him was enough to keep him steady until they were in the air.

 

He was alone at his window seat, but the mood of the cabin was cheerful—he saw families going by when the seatbelt light went off, and the people next to him ignored him. Ash pulled out the first of one of the trilogies and started to read. The lights went on and off in the cabin, and he ate airplane Japanese food without tasting much of it. He kept bouncing whichever foot was supporting more of his weight, and then switching. One book became the next, and then the next, and after his eyes started burning, Ash gave in and fished his reading glasses out of their case.

 

A lot of people were sleeping, and Ash took a minute to rest his eyes and watch them.

 

_I wonder if I’ll be like that one day._ Maybe Blanca was able to sleep on planes—but Ash scoffed to himself as soon as he thought it. _I wonder what did happen to that kid…_

 

Blanca wasn’t the type to make up stories, especially to make him feel better. Ash hadn’t been able to pinpoint the day when sleeping on the bed was normal again, but he knew it _was_ normal, at some point. Maybe the boy from the story wasn’t so lucky.

 

Ash shifted, propping his arm up and resting his chin in his hand as he looked out at the dark sky. There was nothing but ocean beneath them.

 

_How much longer?_

He almost checked his watch, and thought better of it. He went back to the book, only getting up every so often to stretch and use the restroom. Ash was on the next trilogy when the seatbelt sign clicked on; he immediately buckled in, fingers fumbling. He tried to practice every technique Blanca taught him to stay still and calm until they were deplaning, but he couldn’t help adding a little more speed to his normal walk, going through customs and handing them his form as quickly as possible. They were staring as they processed him, but Ash was used to that—he finished the last of the procedure and headed for the gate, clutching at the strap of his backpack as he began scanning the waiting crowd.

 

There were a few stray benches here and there, and that was where he spotted them. Eiji was clutching a water bottle as he spoke to Ibe, his gaze drifting to the gate. He froze when he saw Ash, and Ash smiled at both of them. Eiji stood as Ash closed the distance between them, their hands grasping and meeting each other in a covert squeeze.

 

“Hi,” Ash said, still smiling. “Hello, Ibe-san.”

 

“Hello,” Ibe said. He grinned at both of them when they didn’t move away from each other. “Welcome to Japan.”

 

Eiji’s smile wobbled before firming, his grip tightening.

 

“Hi,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

 

“Me either,” Ash said, and he squeezed Eiji’s hand again before forcing himself to let go—for now. “I hope I packed enough.”

 

Eiji laughed.

 

“We’ll find out.” He turned, and they brushed each other’s shoulders as they went to the baggage claim.

 

Ash smiled the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for it to be this long, but it probably worked out for the best.


	5. Interlude

If Sing could have stayed in the tofu factory forever to sleep off the last few months, he would have.

 

Not that it would have worked.

 

His eyes were raw, and he couldn’t rub at them when Lao kept staring him down, waiting for some kind of break in—whatever. Logic, or the story, but Sing rehearsed in between taking down what remained of the old gangs and the new ones. He almost got used to the beats between the sound of his wire against skin and him cleaning it off to start again.

 

They weren’t in an actual lived-in house for their meeting, and Sing didn’t risk coming alone. Lao scowled when he saw the tall shadow hanging around outside.

 

“Better them than any white people,” Lao muttered.

 

“Shut up,” Sing said. It would have been playful in the life before all of this, and he adjusted his new jacket to call back a memory of being well-fed. He hadn’t dared go around to Nadia’s, let alone any other respectable place, while he was on clean-up duty, and everything over the last few weeks had been scraps, or nothing. “You don’t know shit. And this is your last fucking due.”

 

Eiji went in starts and stops the first time he told Sing the truth, which is how Sing knew it couldn’t have been anything else. Eiji was a bad liar anyway—the care he took with words he probably hadn’t thought about before he got involved with them was the other piece of proof. Sing uttered his version in one go; the mafia butting in on their territory and getting big heads on top of it, grabbing people off the street where they could, and when Ash asked too many questions, they had gotten themselves on the list. By the time the Chinese found out, it was too late, and Shorter had been the result.

 

“Ash gave him a mercy kill. We agreed on it after the rescue went down—before more bastards came around.” Sing didn’t believe in smoking, but he almost saw the appeal. The vice reminded him of his other task, and he narrowed his eyes at Lao, leaning back against the worn sofa and crossing his legs. His feet were almost—almost—dangling, but there was a coffee table between them. “I’m sick of bodies, so I won’t kill you.”

 

Lao glanced down at his hands.

 

“I won’t kill you,” Sing repeated. “But I never want to see your face again. Near any of my allies, or Nadia, or the gang. I’ll have arrangements made so you don’t go hungry and the rest of the family stays safe. Leave the state for all I care.” Sing shifted and stood. “You’ve done enough.”

 

“Sing…”

 

Sing stepped back.

 

“No,” he said.

 

Then he turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Kong stood at quiet attention, arms crossed as he kept his eyes on the street.

 

 _Damn it, Ash. You’ve even got them trained for shit like this?_ Why was he surprised? Being around Arthur _and_ Ash would have made anyone learn to keep their nose out of things. He shuffled down the steps and grunted in Kong’s direction.

 

“Alex will be here in a few minutes,” Kong said. “Cain wanted to check in with both of you.”

 

Sing nodded, and they began walking back to the alley where Alex left them. There was no opening door or window behind them, and by the time Alex arrived and Kong filed in after him, Sing felt the weight of his orders as if they had been Shorter’s.

 

_I wonder when that happened._

-

 

Meeting to discuss downtown territory was half-routine and half dicking around, because after Ash left and the dust settled, Sing realized he actually liked Cain and Alex.

 

It helped, he thought, that they weren’t antsy. They didn’t talk down at him, and even Cain’s guys stopped looking side-ways at Alex, although Sing couldn’t call them friendly. Alex was a listener, and when Cain spoke, he let the silence settle before answering.

 

Sing noticed it every time in the weeks since they started the meeting, but as he nursed his soda and it began to happen again, he caught a hold of the conversation.

 

“Hey, Alex, why do you pause like that?”

 

Alex was in mid-sip and couldn’t answer. Cain chuckled as a cheer rose up from the pool table, Kong’s name among it.

 

“I knew we should have bet on it. I could see your brain wrapping around it every time it happened.”

 

“Nah,” Sing said, tapping the side of his glass. “Don’t give me that. You can’t see anything wearing those things somewhere this dark.”

 

“You sure seemed pleased when I couldn’t see that new jacket of yours.”

 

Alex cleared his throat before Sing could say something stupid, and Sing scowled at him for it.

 

“I did it anyway, I think,” Alex said, “but after you-know-who came around, it was… to make it easier for him, I guess.” He rubbed a finger along the counter and shrugged, smiling. “His English was good, but get a bunch of fast-talking idiots around and anyone would struggle.”

 

“You guys are the fucking softest. You may as well roll over and be blankets,” Sing said. Cain shrugged as Alex did, and when they smiled, Sing huffed.

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

“Loyalty and consideration get you a long way, baby,” Cain said. “Nothing wrong with that.”

 

“Especially considering who’s talking,” Alex said, and easily slid away to check on Kong as Sing struggled to hop off the bar stool. Cain went back to consulting the makeshift map.

 

“If you need to be somewhere, we can wrap up here. I got the feeling you’re not quite present, if it’s not too much to assume.”

 

Sing stalled near the stool and looked at Cain. Cain continued marking along his designated chunk.

 

“No offense taken or meant. Been through too much for that already. Chinatown’s a lot for any one mind.”

 

Sing grabbed his soda and downed it before placing the empty glass on the counter.

 

“Thanks for the freebie,” he said. “I’ll pay you back next time.”

 

“Bring some food. My boys could use a little more culture.”

 

Sing waved at Kong and Alex as he left, ignoring how quick everyone else parted as they saw him. At least it meant they were looking down for once.

 

-

 

He tried to take his own advice as often as possible, but Sing hadn’t gone back to see Yut-Lung since he ran into Lao, and he hadn’t wanted to anytime soon. It felt like a cold wind chasing him down narrow paths—sometimes he would like it, and other times he wanted nothing more than to bundle up and ignore it.

 

A small note came via one of his gang, left where it would have been hard for anyone else to see it. _The rotation is every two weeks. I always move forward._

 

It was a fucking joke, but Sing memorized it before ripping it up and going back to work. Was he trying to be sincere? _Move forward without me, then._

Now he was at a particularly nice building in a better neighborhood, his bike parked nearby, and as he rang the doorbell he wrapped his leather jacket around him, tight as he could. When the familiar _click click_ of the intercom came on, Sing held in a sigh.

 

“Is the young master at home? It’s Sing Soo-Ling.”

 

“One moment.”

 

The door opened not long after, and one of the usual hulks led Sing inside and upstairs. The rooms were drenched in rich colors and fabrics, and Sing caught the scent of several things cooking.

 

It was luxurious, and he hated it.

 

The hulk didn’t complain this time—he opened the door, announced Sing, and stepped aside. Sing strode into the room and braced himself.

 

“You’ve kept me waiting, Sing.”

 

Yut-Lung lounged on a sofa, resting his cheek in his hand as he regarded Sing. Sing noticed the glass on the table next to the sofa and rolled his eyes, glancing away.

 

“Are you ever sober?”

 

“As a grave,” Yut-Lung said. “I assume you’re not here to scold me. I’ve heard good things about the reclamation of Chinatown.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to wait on that for a few minutes.” Sing stuck his hands in his pockets and stretched the jacket in an opened-arm gesture. “I’m calling in the start of what you owe. You’re going to have someone keep tabs on Lao and give him and the family an allowance for the rest of their lives.”

 

The house must have been sound-proof; the usual silence that came from a big place was steeper here, and in the time Yut-Lung took a sip and put the glass back down, Sing felt like his presence was the loudest thing in the room. He did it, finally—pushed too far. Yut-Lung stared him down, and everything Sing could have made fun of him for vanished. He was all Lee, and the Lees were assholes.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because,” Sing said, and as he did he was back in a yellow room, side-by-side with someone he couldn’t look at in the eye. “Because you tried to ruin everything, and now you have to start making up for it.” He let his arms drop back to his sides. “Like I said, I don’t hate you. I wish I did. But you’re still going to have to _do_ something.” Sing shifted before going to sit next to Yut-Lung on the sofa, the other moving fast enough that he had a whole half to himself.

 

“What are you doing?” There was an edge in his voice, and it told Sing to leave it alone. Sing inched closer to the arm of the sofa.

 

“Sorry, did I actually scare you? My legs and feet hurt. I wanna sit. And I have a question to ask.” Sing shrugged. “You don’t have to answer. Just think about it.”

 

Yut-Lung crossed his legs at his ankles and went back to his glass, keeping his gaze on Sing.

 

 _I guess that means I can ask._ Sing opened his mouth, closed it, and then went ahead.

 

“Why did you want Eiji to kill you that night?”

 

It was something that came back to Sing the longer he had to think about it instead of when he would get to eat next, and as Yut-Lung’s eyes widened and he struggled to swallow the last of his wine, Sing found himself really studying the room. It was all bold and bright, and it seemed to eat the both of them up the longer they sat in the middle of it. The bottom of the glass clattered against the table.

 

“You—”

 

“I said you can think about it.” Sing held back what was on his tongue. _Eiji wouldn’t hurt a fly._ But maybe he might have, that night. Not like he could have hit anyone, though. The night was dark even with the street lights, and Eiji was a bad shot, training and all.

 

 _He might have, to save someone._ If Ash hadn’t been the one to do it, and Shorter could have lived—maybe Eiji would have taken that chance. But every time Sing came close to reasoning something, he only saw Eiji covered in his own blood and collapsing.

 

“You’re always asking the most irritating questions,” Yut-Lung said. “You asked then, too. As if you couldn’t comprehend anything more complicated. I expect better of you, Sing.” Yut-Lung stood, long hair swaying with the motion. “Does this count as doing something to you?”

 

“Aw, come on,” Sing said, curling his hands into fists and kneading his knuckles against his jeans. “I don’t ask the same questions all the time. I asked why you wanted to _die_ then. It’s not the same.” He could see Yut-Lung crossing his arms, about to turn and strike with another sharp word. “You’re supposed to ask people when you have a problem you can’t figure out yourself, you know.” He stretched his foot out as he kept reclining. “See, every solution I came up with didn’t seem like the right one. He was already traumatized, and so that can’t be it in particular. Corrupt him, maybe? Can you really call someone that hangs around with us ‘clean?’ So, then I wonder, would any one of us feel better about dying if we’re dying in the arms of someone that bothered crying over us—”

 

Yut-Lung whirled to face him, and it was fast enough that Sing caught the edge of his tongue and held it. His face was flushed despite the calm tone that emerged.

 

“Tell me, Sing… would you say you feel loved? Cared for?” Yut-Lung moved toward him. Sing watched his hands, and when Yut-Lung noticed he gave a derisive shrug, stepping away again. “You clearly don’t trust _me_ , regardless of how free you are with your words.”

 

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “Not like you have to ask about either. That was how you got Lao, wasn’t it?” He frowned when Yut-Lung smiled in response.

 

“I’ll admit there’s rough value in you. Everyone else—I find it fascinating. That’s all. As if one life is worth another’s, or something special at all.”

 

“Oh, god, shut the fuck up,” Sing said, and flipped him off for emphasis. Yut-Lung flushed again.

 

“You have the nerve to still—”

 

“—still? Still?” Sing pitched his voice up as he stood, gesturing toward the rest of the room. “When are you going to get some normal colors in here? You’re like one of the grandmas that sit in the parlor counting tiles and marriages. Fuck!” He paced the line of the sofa, and Yut-Lung was stuck moving out of the way as he did. “You are so _stupid_ , it’s amazing you got this far! What, so that last one was right? You wanted someone to cry because you died? Even if he did, would you have felt _better_? I’m calling in all your debt. You’re going to keep cleaning up Chinatown with my help, and you’re going to have someone watch Lao because your ass started that in the first place, and you’re going to take care of whatever the family needs, and I might stop being mad if you fucking feed me, because knowing you, you would turn your nose up at a meal! Rich boy!”

 

Yut-Lung stared as Sing muttered to himself, smacking his thighs and then rounding back.

 

“You haven’t even said anything about _my new jacket_ , which is fucking awesome, and I know for a fact it cost more than everything you’re wearing!” Sing stuck an edge out and smacked the back of his hand against the black leather. “Are we going to go eat or what?!”

 

There was the distinct sound of footsteps near the door. Sing ignored it. If Yut-Lung didn’t scream murder, a warning about what he might suffer was only a warning. Yut-Lung sized him up and then came over to study the jacket.

 

“It is very nice,” he said. His tone sharpened. “How did you get this, again?”

 

“I dunno,” Sing said, and then he left the room with Yut-Lung in tow, questions growing more and more petulant.

 

Sing didn’t answer them, and after Yut-Lung started eating, he enjoyed a decent dinner, ignoring the exchanged looks between the guards. They would be grateful once he left and Yut-Lung left them alone for the night. He made sure to veer toward polite in public, and after giving him a proper update on Chinatown, Sing gathered himself and headed outside. Yut-Lung followed him to his bike.

 

“Are you going to answer my question about that present of yours? It had to have been a present,” Yut-Lung said. Sing eased himself on and glanced at Yut-Lung. He almost looked like he could have been one of his gang, and he thought he seemed happier for it.

 

“Maybe next time, if you answer mine,” Sing said. He smirked when Yut-Lung scowled. “You got sources anyway, don’t you?”

 

“No,” Yut-Lung said. The nighttime air slipped between them in a long pause, and Sing kept staring.

 

“No?”

 

“Not for you.”

 

“Oh,” Sing said, and Yut-Lung mirrored his earlier smirk.

 

“Good night, Sing Soo-Ling.”

 

He turned and went back inside, and all Sing could do was start up his bike and kick the stand with more force than necessary. He rode into the dark, trying to roll everything into some neat idea and feeling the rumble underneath break his concentration every time. That wind was back at his heels, teasing away his edges.

 

 _Maybe it’s the wrong thing to treat him like a kid,_ he thought, as he roared up to his usual spot and hid his bike underneath a tarp best left untouched by better standards. _But if treating him like one is, then I’ve done the wrong thing about Ash all along._ And that was something he couldn’t imagine.

 

By the time he got to the fire escape, every part of him was screaming for rest. The hunger had been a good way to stay awake, and now there was nothing left of it. _Idiot._ He shouldn’t have had so much, but it had been _good_ , and the chef heaped more on every time he managed to empty his plate. _Serving that guy must be the worst job_ _since all he does is drink._

 

He reached a window covered in soft curtains and an open blind, and as he peeked inside, he saw no obvious sign of a living entrant. Safe, or safe enough. He climbed back down and went through the usual way.

 

It had been hard to leave well enough alone for as long as he had to, but now he fished up a spare key from around his neck, the long chain dangling as he unlocked the door. He poked his head in and listened before entering, locking it behind him and letting out a long sigh as he leaned against the door.

 

“Finally…” The leftover smell of Cousin Nadia’s cooking still lingered, but other than that Sing was alone, and he took the chance to shower and borrow spare clothes from a clean but unemptied room. _Thank god that policeman isn’t here._ Sing didn't think he would be recognized on the spot, but one awkward dinner was enough.

 

He ended up investigating the bed as he got ready to sleep, and stopped mid-adjustment, his hand inside the pillowcase. He pulled out a note and an opened envelope. He squeezed his eyes shut as he turned on the lamp next to the bed, waiting for the worst of the brightness to fade before he opened them again and read.

 

_Sing,_

_I don’t know when you’ll be back, but if I’m not here when you are, I wanted to leave this for you. I thought you would like to see it._

_-Nadia_

Sing glanced at the envelope and flipped it over. The address had Jessica’s name on it.

 

“Huh,” he murmured. He pulled out the letter and saw Nadia’s name on it before laying it aside and looking at the other item.

 

A picture of Max, Jessica, Michael and Ash caught the glare from the light. They were hurtling down a log ride, and as they did the camera caught them mid-laugh.

 

Sing studied Ash’s smile before looking around the room.

 

“Hey, check it out,” he said, holding the picture up in the air and waving it around and then down toward the ground. “Or maybe here? It’s a nice picture, huh? Shorter.” He looked at it again before tucking it back in the envelope, feeling his lips curling up against all willpower.

 

 _Looks fun._ He slipped it back into the pillowcase and crawled into bed, eyes already closing. _Maybe someday I could go, too._

It was a dangerous thought, but he was used to both of those things.

 

And it was safe enough with him.

 

“Nothing wrong with that,” he mumbled, grabbing the spare pillow so he wouldn’t squash the contents on accident. His last garbled to-do list involved Cain and Alex and following up with Nadia whenever she got back.

 

Then Sing was asleep, Shorter’s room settling all around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated about the idea of this interlude until we got the PV with Alex and Sing together, and then I decided it had to be done! Sorry for the wait on our main boys (and in general), but it shouldn't be too long!


	6. Strange Glimmering Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash arrives in Japan.

The surroundings were the same and not the same, and Ash had trouble deciding whether it was because Eiji was next to him.

 

Ibe hailed a taxi that looked nothing like the ones at home, and Ash was about to haul the first of the luggage to his trunk when he noticed Eiji scowling at Ibe.

 

“What?” Ash murmured, even as they packed up and into the car.

 

“Taxis are _expensive_ ,” Eiji said, the usual English directed toward Ibe. “We took the train to get here.”

 

Ibe leaned back after giving the directions, shrugging and giving, what was in Ash’s opinion, a very Max-like smile. “You don’t want time to talk?”

 

“Yeah, you don’t want time to talk?” Ash said, grinning, and Eiji’s expression settled into a very familiar sulk. He huffed and leaned back into the seat, crossing his arms.

 

“You were the one complaining about all the spending.” Eiji drummed his fingers against his arms before he turned and leaned in, scanning Ash’s face. Ash glanced away, staring at the road through the windshield.

 

“I’ll allow it this once,” Ash said, and Ibe chuckled.

 

“Same old Ash, after all,” he said. “How was the flight?”

 

“Fine,” Ash said, and he ended up relaying more than he expected, like what always seemed to happen around Eiji—the preparations before he left, the good-byes, and the shift from New York to Los Angeles. When Ibe heard about Disneyland he only sighed, half-wistful and annoyed.

 

“That sounds amazing,” Eiji said.

 

“That sounds like Max had to hear why you couldn’t be Michael’s father instead,” Ibe said.

 

Ash smirked. “Who needs a father when you have a good big brother?” He hadn’t, after all. He was sure Ibe would have left it alone even if he caught the gist. Eiji sighed next to him, and Ash hunched his shoulders in reaction.

 

“That’s not funny,” Eiji said, keeping his voice low and calm. “But I’m glad it was nice for all of you.” When Ash glanced at him, Eiji wrinkled his nose at him. “I can tell because you’re being a brat.”

 

“Huh! Turn this around so I can go back right now.”

 

“You won’t get a refund, Mr. Rich American,” Eiji said, and Ash caught himself mid-laugh as he noticed Ibe watching both of them, open and warm and irritating.

 

“Don’t mind me,” Ibe said. He gave the Max-style smile again. “I don’t have my camera with me, if you’re worried about that.”

 

“Well, _now_ I am.”

 

The city drew in around them before Ash could take notice of any other landscape, and for a few minutes Eiji and Ibe pointed out construction on either of their sides, Ash peering through and noting the haphazard design in some places. _No blocks here, I guess._ The afternoon sun was catching along different edges, and Ash found himself drifting, staring a little too long at a ramen place while they were at a red light. He caught Eiji watching him again and shook his head, smiling and turning to face Ibe.

 

“How long can you stay?”

 

“Whatever you don’t mind,” Ibe said. He stroked his beard, squinting into space. “I have a few assignments in the city, and some time to do them. We can manage a lot in between.”

 

“Then we’ll manage dinner,” Ash said. Eiji was silent, counting turns or whatever landmarks might have been nearby, and as they took a way out of main traffic, Eiji broke into the conversation, tone almost dangerously innocent.

 

“Where are we staying, Ash?”

 

“Hmm? Ibe recommended it.” _Uh-oh…_ was what he wanted to think, but he found himself studying his jeans, struggling not to break. “We’re in the middle of the city, aren’t we? I remember asking for that.”

 

“Yes. I think in English it would be… Chiyoda Ward.” Eiji paused, and Ash glanced over at Ibe in time to see him giving a fake cough.

 

“Oh,” Ash said, widening his eyes and giving his best innocent look, “is it special?”

 

“ _Ash,_ ” Eiji said, as the cab began to slow and park near a large, forty-story building. Ibe hopped out as soon as he could, and Ash tried to catch his seat belt buckle just as Eiji covered it with a hand, motioning toward the building and lowering his voice to a heated whisper.

 

“Ash, do you know where this _is_? It’s Aka Puri! Most of the people who stay here are politicians or… or famous!”

 

“Then consider yourself famous, Eiji,” Ash said, daring to grab Eiji’s hand and grasping his fingers before inching it aside and freeing himself. He turned, easing a leg toward the open door and then winking. “I got one of the nicest rooms I could. Standards, you know.”

 

Eiji tried and failed to kick him as he escaped the taxi and headed toward the trunk, almost sauntering.

 

\--

 

It was called, Ibe had said over the phone, the Asakusa Prince Hotel, and the newest part was designed by a famous architect not too long before everything started.

 

“It’s as close as you’ll get to the middle of the city and quiet at the same time,” Ibe said. “But…”

 

“No, that’s the one,” Ash said. “Could you help me book it?”

 

The entire building looked, to his eye, like aluminum and glass, and as the three of them checked in and were escorted up to the top, Ash felt too light. His body was responding like it should have been, but even with the risk of a low ceiling and having to duck his head to slip inside the entrance of the large room, he couldn’t find himself on solid ground. Ibe had gone into a two-minute laughing fit once they were in private, and Eiji alternating between fuming and gawking made Ash echo him, sitting in the middle of the floor and leaning on his luggage. Eiji had taken his shoes hostage as soon as the door had closed.

 

“Okay, okay,” Ibe said, wiping his eyes, “I’ll be checking around for good locations. Ei- _chan_ , _stop_ looking at me like that…”

 

Eiji handed his hotel key to Ibe and shooed him out, closing the door with a disdainful politeness.

 

“Remind me to learn that from you,” Ash said. He forced himself up, stretching. “I’m going to see if the bath can fit me.”

 

“Of course it’ll fit you,” Eiji said, sticking his tongue out. “Worry about that big head of yours!” He padded over to the window before Ash could counter, and Ash gave a fake huff before heading to the bathroom. Quick footsteps followed after him once he closed the door.

 

“You might have to wash your body before going into the bath!”

 

“Okay,” Ash said, and found himself regarding the set-up, trying to see if anything was different from what he remembered.

 

_Either way… I’m going to live in here now,_ he thought, and stripped as quickly as he could, cleaning off and settling into the absolutely oversized tub, letting out a long sigh and running his wet hands through his hair. He was half-blob before a softer knock came a few minutes later.

 

“Ash, I got your pajamas out.”

 

_What?_ Ash blinked water out of his eyes before realizing Eiji was waiting to hear from him. His body tingled, and he leaned his arms on the side of the marble tub, resting his chin on them.

 

“Come in,” he said. Eiji opened the door, a clean pile in his hands.

 

“I’m mad at you,” Eiji said. “And myself.”

 

“What?” Ash laughed. “Why? And why pajamas?”

 

Eiji tucked them on the top of a marble shelf, stepping inside and sitting on the step that led into the tub. He was face-to-face with Ash, and as their eyes met he found himself caught at the end of a look that pierced through his brain.

 

“You’re exhausted, that’s why,” Eiji said. “I wish you had said something to Ibe.” Eiji frowned. “You couldn’t sleep on the plane, could you?” He lowered his eyes, shaking his head. “It hit me in the taxi… but I wasn’t sure until now.”

 

“So what, you expect me to sleep now that I’m here?” Ash shifted, resting a cheek against his arms as he groaned. “Boring.”

 

“We have months!” Eiji ended up laughing, a hand smacking against the marble step and ringing in the bathroom. “When Ibe- _san_ comes back, I’ll let him know. We can have room service or go to eat in the hotel… so you won’t have to worry.” Eiji lifted his head and smiled. “It should be good, I think. This place is really trendy, you know.”

 

“Is it? That’s a surprise. I didn’t think Ibe and trendy would be anywhere in the same place.”

 

They both laughed, and Eiji scooted closer, taking another part of the tub and leaning against it.

 

“You know, if he shaved, he would look like my older brother.” Eiji hummed. “I think he grew it so he couldn’t be teased.”

 

“Does that mean you’re going to grow facial hair, old man? If you can.”

 

Eiji flicked his fingers against Ash’s arm, the gesture making him smirk.

 

“Laugh while you can,” Eiji said, and stood up, so slow that Ash sat up properly, the water slopping as he did. Eiji noticed and glanced away, waving it off.

 

“It’s okay. I’m being careful. Because you’ll get wrinkles sooner than I will.” Eiji stuck his tongue out as he peered over his shoulder and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Ash stared before sighing, going under and holding his breath until everything in his head swam past worry.

 

_Maybe I’m the one that should be mad at myself._

By the time he got out and dried his hair, Eiji was unpacking, flipping through all the books and stacking them until the motion was enough to make Ash’s eyes grow heavy. He crawled onto the nearest bed, nose squashing into the pillow as he continued to listen to the sound of Eiji thumbing through paper.

 

\--

 

Ash was walking back to the house by himself, because he forgot to grab extra batteries.

 

He was digging through the drawers when he glanced through the window, admiring the waves of fully-grown wheat and the figures wading into it. Eiji was next to Griffin, and Shorter chased after, carting a lunch box.  He began the search when he caught a glimpse of the sky through the top panes, a large rumble making the glass shake in its frame.

 

A storm built, swirling into view. He was at the door, stepping down the porch and about to call out when a large fork of lightning hit the old tree in the field.

 

_Run._ Every bone sang it, but he was still on the porch, watching more lightning come down until the horizon went from grey, to black, to red.

 

A wall formed out of the sky. The taste of smoke was on his lips, and all he could do was watch in silence, unable to move even when birds and animals rushed around, underneath, and over the house, blazing with the light from the coming fire. A bird was covered in soot, crying a warning. The figures were still in the field, and the wall was descending on them and the golden grass.

 

He didn’t hear them scream. He didn’t see them fall. There was only a great, dull roar, and as he glanced down toward the yard he saw a deep, deep fire break, a rabbit leaping and falling into it. The wall came up, up, up to the break, and as his lips cracked and the edge of his face began to burn, the fire broke to the sides, leaving him with the rest of the ash.

 

_No,_ he thought, but everything was past hurting. _You can’t kill them and leave me here._

There was nothing left if it was just him.

 

He reached a hand out to try and lure the flame to him, and as he did, he caught something soft and warm in its grasp. He gasped, flame searing down his face.

 

Ash gasped in real life, the inhale almost rattling. His hand was still caught, and as he squeezed, Eiji’s fingers squeezed back. He opened his eyes, the glare of a bedside lamp making him flinch away. Eiji shifted to block the light, pressing their hands together.

 

“Ash,” Eiji said. “It’s okay.” His voice was soft after the dream, and as something wet dribbled off his chin, Ash wiped at his face, his eyes still wounded from phantom smoke. Eiji didn’t say anything; his thumb rubbed the back of Ash’s hand, and when Ash sat up, Eiji inched back without letting go.

 

“What time is it?” Ash asked.

 

“Midnight,” Eiji said. Ash let his arm drop and faced Eiji, eyes darting to drawn curtains and low lighting with various things tucked on the tables. Ibe was nowhere to be seen, and the longer the quiet persisted the more Ash could breathe, noting Eiji’s T-shirt and boxers. A discarded book was on Eiji’s other side.

 

“Oh,” Ash said, and couldn’t manage more. Eiji shifted, letting go of their hands and embracing Ash.

 

Ash could still smell the fire, and as he did he clutched to Eiji, breathing deep and catching clean cotton and some soap that was and wasn’t quite _Eiji_ or the soap the hotel had in the bathroom. Eiji didn’t resist, and kept his grip loose, even when Ash’s tightened on him.

 

“Eiji,” Ash said, and the image of Griffin and Shorter vanishing in the flame came back. He tried to meet Eiji’s eyes, and when he did, Eiji slowly leaned up, brushing his lips against Ash’s forehead.

 

“It’s okay, Ash,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I am here.”

 

Ash nodded, and wrapped himself around Eiji until he felt their heartbeats easing into sync.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for 1) the shorter chapter and 2) being absent and presenting a shorter chapter! I had a bad cold for the last week and the half and am still recovering. 
> 
> There was not originally going to be a nightmare, but certain personages have bumped the amount up. They know who they are (and I love you)! Thank you for continuing to read, and here's to infinite amount of hugs c:


	7. Full of Green Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No one has told you, but you are a brat, Ash Lynx,” Eiji said. 
> 
> Ash and Eiji discuss dreams.

“I believed Griffin would come for me.”

 

Ash and Eiji hadn’t moved, and at this point Ash’s feet were half-numb from the stillness. Neither of them bothered shifting, and Ash could hear Eiji’s breathing shift with the absent-minded words. A stutter—a deeper inhale—and then silence, instead of anything that would make Ash creep back into his mind, as if he ever left it in the first place. Ash stared ahead at the curtains, and let the neutral pattern soak the worst away.

 

“I guess anyone would believe someone would come and save them, right? But it wasn’t that kind of thing. I had faith. Griffin was clever. And one day he would ask the right questions, and we would walk away and never have to think about any of it again. We wouldn’t even have to go back to that house. It wouldn’t be fine, but he would have been there.”

 

Ash sighed. Eiji leaned back, and they both shifted together. Ash pressed Eiji closer, feeling for any tension or sudden, silent _no, no more_ , but he ended up with Eiji smushed against his chest, and Ash’s legs flopped on either side of Eiji’s.

 

“When I started getting money and learning how to hide it, I used most of it to see what happened… if I could find him like he would have found me. And that was—” Ash stopped. Eiji had seen it, or enough of it. “Was it stupid to think that?”

 

“No,” Eiji said. “He would have.” Eiji tilted his head, trying to glance back and meet Ash’s gaze. Ash glanced at him before lifting a hand and poking his shoulder.

 

“You’re going to get a crick in your neck.”

 

“You could let me go,” Eiji said. He didn’t move, and so Ash didn’t, either, and they fell into the kind of silence that meant they were both weighing everything that came next. It was the type of pause they didn’t have time for, until now. Ash half-expected someone to barge in, flinging explosives.

 

“I don’t get why it’s always nightmares,” Ash muttered. He went back to keeping a loose grip on Eiji. “I was dreaming that the house was on fire… and all of you went with it. But you—Griffin, and Shorter, and you—were… it shouldn’t be a nightmare.”

 

Eiji’s hands slid over his, and Ash felt their fingers twining together, until Eiji could squeeze them. Ash moved to rest his chin on Eiji’s shoulder, cradling him.

 

“After everything, Ash, why wouldn’t it be nightmares?” Eiji squeezed his hands again, and then again, until Ash squeezed back, testing the warmth. “When did it have time to be another dream?”

 

“I could have been dreaming of this,” Ash said, and even though it made sense in his head, the second the words were out, he realized the implications. “Of Japan,” he added. Eiji’s shoulders shook underneath him, and Ash grimaced. “You know what I meant. Your English isn’t that bad.”

 

“Maybe it is that good,” Eiji said, and they both started laughing, shaky and off-balance from trying to accommodate each other. Eiji let go of his hands, and Ash slowly pulled back, his arm brushing a cool and solid chunk on the sheets. He glanced over and saw the book against his skin, the emblazoned title glimmering in the lamp light.

 

“I thought you would not want to wake up in a room alone,” Eiji said, plucking the book up and putting it on the nightside table. “Even if I left a note. So I stayed and read, and Ibe-san went to a friend’s.” Eiji crawled his way to the center of the bed before settling near Ash again, still slow. “Ash, I think you should eat. Even room service ramen will be better than nothing.”

 

Ash crossed his arms. “You were the one making the big deal about the place, and now you think the food’s going to be ‘better than nothing?’ Spoiled.”

 

“ _Healthy,_ ” Eiji said, and they both stared at each other before looking away, smothering another fit of giggles. “But it will be warm.”

 

“Sure,” Ash said, and watched Eiji pluck up a large book of Japanese characters, inching the phone line over and placing the call. It was routine, which meant it was still novel, and it wasn’t until Eiji hung up again that Ash put a hand to his eyes, wiping at the edges. They had that familiar, endless burn.

 

“Sorry for crying over your clothes,” Ash said, shrugging. “But that’s what big brothers are for, right?”

 

Eiji smiled. “Yes. For sibling snot.” He kept smiling as Ash huffed, flinging himself off the bed and into the bathroom to wash his face. Eiji’s laugh followed him in, and Ash kept his shoulders hunched as he cleaned himself up, resisting the urge to run back out and fling a pillow in Eiji’s face. He settled for heading back into the room and flipping him off, hand-combing his hair as he did.

 

“See if I pay the laundry bill!”

 

“You will,” Eiji said, leaning back against his pillow. “Because you won’t want to do laundry here anyway.” Eiji patted the spot next to him, and Ash went over, sliding into place as Eiji moved, the two of them side-by-side on the edge of the bed again.

 

“I’m glad you slept, Ash. Even with the nightmares.”

 

“Me too.” Ash took a real look around the room; it was sleek and clean from Eiji’s earlier efforts, and even the deliberately quiet colors seemed fresher than what he was used to in the States. “I’ll be happier when I eat.”

 

They fell into the normal pattern until the doorbell rang; Eiji got up to slide on some pants, and helped room service inside. Ash tried not to catch their eye or study them for too long. He didn’t want to be caught staring for any reason.

 

_Especially when it’s to check if they’re carrying a gun in here or not._ Eiji followed the attendant to the door and then back, sitting on the side facing the window. Ash got up, hauling another desk chair over. He could see the steam rising from the bowls, and his stomach snapped to attention.

 

“You know what we say before we eat?” Eiji said. “ _Itadakimasu.”_

 

“Yeah?” Ash sipped at the broth first. “Why?”

 

“It’s a prayer.”

 

Ash felt like he was vacuuming the noodles up compared to Eiji, and he would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t already been crying near him. Again. _How did that become a habit_? “To who?”

 

“It’s not like _that_ ,” Eiji said, and plucked a piece of pork out of the soup. “Or, um—it’s to the people that made it. And the animals. But I told you, so you could practice.”

 

Ash smiled. “Then I thank myself for paying for the food.” He inched his leg back as Eiji tried to kick at it again.

 

“No one has told you, but you are a brat, Ash Lynx,” Eiji said. He tried to scowl, and it ended up a full-fledged pout. Ash let him stew as he finished the ramen, trying to keep his pace slow.

 

“I guess they haven’t. Except Max.”

 

“Then Max has not told you enough.”

 

“It would help if you weren’t smiling.”

 

Eiji turned his face away, but it wasn’t enough—Ash could always tell when he was smiling. Something about his face was filled with it. “Then it would help if you were not smiling, either.”

 

“It’s the food,” Ash said, and they finished it during a comfortable lull, the two of them aware that it wasn’t. Ash went back to investigating the room while they waited on room service to take everything out, and when Eiji was done handling it, Ash realized he was being observed. Ash halted, looking at Eiji.

 

“What?”

 

Eiji grinned. “You really are being a kid. Like playing with a new toy.”

 

“Hmph.” Ash looked at the unused bed before going back to the mussed one, smoothing the worst of the damage to busy his hands.

 

_It’s too easy._ It was too easy to drop back into _this_ —being close, and accepting it. He shouldn’t have even been able to sleep, but every time he tried to inch away from it, the warmth slipped into his bones.

 

And Ash couldn’t even manage a complaint to hide it.

 

“Eiji?”

 

“Hm?” Eiji dragged a chair across the carpet, putting them back into place. Ash turned to face him, all thoughts scattering like the animals in the dream’s fire. He stalled, glancing down at his bare feet. What did he say when nothing was _wrong_ the way it had been?

 

_Maybe I should tell him about Lao._ Or the letter. But neither of those pressed on him like that image of the fire, or being left alone.

 

Then Ash thought of the darkness, and those rounded shapes beneath a much younger version of him in a whole different dream. It had mostly faded, but there was one part that stuck out beyond that.

 

“I actually had one decent dream. Not too long ago.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes down. “Even though _someone_ made fun of me, I was thinking about that Halloween night, or imagining it… and then you were grabbing me for a sleepover, just like that.” Ash lifted his head, rolling his eyes. “You were an owl, but you couldn’t even hoot properly.”

 

“Oh?” The last syllable went up, and Ash saw Eiji smiling, all fondness. “Should I have been a pumpkin?”

 

_Everyone who said I was a demon was wrong._ Ash’s cheeks were hot, and he turned away before they betrayed him in full. _They have no idea what a real demon looks like._

Ash didn’t even regret being face-to-face with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New seasonal retail job and everything else something something busy, but I couldn't let the finale day go without an update (to help us cope)! 
> 
> I will try to bring it back to a regular schedule, but here's to surviving until then, and hopefully happy holidays to people who celebrate! 
> 
> Your continued return to my little story make me happy beyond words <3

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing besides my best. Hope you like it!


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